


little wings on my shoes

by juliusschmidt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (that last one is a stretch), A Heavy Dose of, Ableism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- American, Coming Out, Dry Humping, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hickeys, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, Kind of Almost Forced Outing, M/M, Misogyny, Nerd Harry, Nerd Liam, Nerd Louis, Nerd Zayn, Popular Niall, Semi-Public Sex, Sneaking Around, Transphobia, Violence, actually they're all more like, also, and also just regular, and finally A LOT of, high-achieving suburban weirdos, i forgot, is that they're, nerds, obviously, than your classic 'nerd', the whole premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliusschmidt/pseuds/juliusschmidt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You have C Lunch?”  Louis asks, peering over at Harry's work. The problem Harry’s just finished is printed neatly, the correct answer circled. Harry’s finger marks the next problem in his book as he copies it onto the page. It doesn’t look like he’s stealing the answers out of the back. Nice.</i> </p><p>  <i>He’s dimpled and smart.</i> </p><p>  <i>And probably gay. </i><br/> </p><p>[The American High School AU in which no one is cool (except Niall) and Harry wears a rainbow bracelet.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	little wings on my shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softgrudges](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=softgrudges).



> I've tucked in a lot of warning-ish tags up there. If you have questions about any of them, let me know. Most of it's pretty innocuous, but I like to be really safe (so also tell me if I missed something). 
> 
> Thank you to Lauren who read this through with her vast experience of high school boys (and video games and comic books) in mind and, of course, to my beta Melanie ([cheekysstyles](http://cheekysstyles.tumblr.com)) who is amazing- this is so long- I'm an editor's nightmare- she is the best. <3
> 
> This is my response to a prompt that I didn’t finish in time for hlsummerfest. I loved it so much and didn’t have time and energy to do it justice this spring/early summer. It’s finished now, though, and I couldn’t wait a moment longer to post it. I’ll attribute and mark it as a gift publicly after hlsummerfest reveals. :)

~

“I absolutely think you’re making the right choice switching out of AP Stats and continuing with choir,” Coach Higgins tells Louis as he slides the freshly printed schedule across his desk. “Your transcript doesn’t need another math class. Calc should be more than enough with your SAT score and all your other Advanced Placement classes. If you want scholarships, you’re going to need to demonstrate your versatility, bulk up on the extracurriculars.”

Louis smiles back at him, relieved by Higgins’ supportiveness.

Higgins gestures toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Tomlinson. Tell Lou I say ‘hi’ and that she can thank me for you switching back. See you at practice.”  

~

Louis drops into one of the chairs with a clatter loud enough to interrupt whatever Ms. T is saying about a syllabus and extra credit points. It doesn’t matter; she’s going to give them all ‘A’s.

“Louis,” she says. “Nice of you to join us.”

Louis grins at her, all teeth. She looks back at the paper in her hand. “As I was saying, ten points deducted for arriving any more than five minutes late.”  

Well, fuck her, then.  He thought she’d be _glad_ to see him. Louis exhales loudly and explains, “I was at the counselor’s, switching back into this class.”

Ms. T continues, “And five points deducted for swearing.”

Louis kicks leg of the chair in front of him and now the whole class is definitely focused on him and not Ms. T. “Well, maybe you’d like to know, _Lou_ , that Higgins says he thinks you’re gorgeous and wants to see you in his office at lunch, if you know what I mean.”

He winks at her.

She frowns at him and runs her hands through her hair. It’s something she only does when she’s particularly frustrated and Louis knows she’s calculating the potential effectiveness of a lecture on ‘respect.’ She flicks her eyes back the syllabus, clearly deciding against it. They know each other _pretty_ well by now, him and Ms. T. Her first year of teaching had been Louis’ first year of high school and she’s the only teacher he’ll have had all four years.

So no, okay, he doesn’t ‘respect’ her like he does most of his other teachers; he _loves_ her.

She surveys the class and shakes her head, setting the paper down on the top of piano. “Enough of that. As you can see, we have 13 voices instead of the usual twelve due to Louis’ late change of heart, but four boys is a record for this group and I hope we’ll be able to do some cooler pieces.”

As they arrange into sections, Louis punches Liam in the shoulder and introduces himself to the new boys. Niall’s a junior, blond and round cheeked. Louis’ seventy five percent sure he was on Homecoming Court last fall, or maybe Student Council. He’s not the typical choir boy and Louis bets his friends are giving him hell for it. But from the way he’s staring at diva bitchface Stephanie’s cleavage, Louis thinks he probably doesn’t give two shits.

Louis recognizes the other boy, too, Harry, and smiles in greeting. It’s pretty impressive for a sophomore to make it into _Honor’s_ Choir. Usually underclassmen have to be in the general Chorale, but Louis knows from last year’s spring musical that Harry has an amazing voice. The curly-haired dumbass can’t dance or memorize lines or act, but, _boy, can he sing_.

“Hi,” Louis says.

Harry puts up a fist and Louis’ about to bump it, _he is_ , but his eyes get caught on Harry’s wrist. It’s covered in bracelets, mostly braided string and hemp ones like Louis’ sisters are so fond of making, but in the midst of them is one with big plastic beads of all colors, a rainbow.

When Harry realizes that Louis’ left him hanging, he turns his fist around, lets his eyes go comically wide, and socks himself in the jaw. Reeling dramatically, he says, “Oops!”

It’s the most awkward deflection of awkwardness that Louis has ever seen. He laughs. “You’re quirky. I like you.”

Harry smiles, his dimples pop, and Louis’ insides twist. Louis’ eyes flick back down to the rainbow bracelet on Harry’s wrist and he _wonders_.

~

Louis hovers next to Liam in a subtle attempt to block the computer screen from the view of the librarian, Ms. Caroline. He tries to catch the movements of Liam’s fingers on the keyboard, but it’s really no use. His movements are too quick and too jerky to follow. Beside them, Zayn’s got his sketch book open and he’s drawing Louis as a superhero. Louis-as-a-superhero has nice pecs and a giant package. Louis appreciates Zayn’s accuracy.

“I got in,” Liam says after a second. He drops his hands and shifts back in his seat.

Louis looks at the list of student names that have popped up on the screen. He taps his own. “Change my ‘B’ in AP Chem to an ‘A.’”

Liam frowns at him. He hisses, “No, Louis. That’s cheating. We could be _expelled_.”

Louis pinches Liam’s nipple- earning himself a smack- and replies, “I _deserve_ an ‘A.’ I did fine on every test. I got a fucking _five_ on the AP exam. Mr. McGee just doesn’t like me.”

“You _were_ pretty bad,” Liam suggests hesitantly.

Louis lets out a huff of breath. “He was like, ‘Louis, you need to be more responsible with the lab equipment.’ And ‘Louis, where does it say you need hydrochloric acid for this assignment?’ And ‘Louis, you’re not living up to your potential.’ Fuck him.”

“You did-“

“Don’t even start with me, Liam. I know how much you love him and his giant _test tubes_.”  

Liam flushes. “I do not.”

Louis uses his moment of weakness to commandeer the keyboard. He clicks his name and another window pops up. “Liam, you idiot.”

“Hey, now,” Zayn says, not looking up from his drawing. “Liam just hacked into your records for you.”

“Yeah, my _library_ records.”

Zayn looks up, then. “Cool. Hey, Li, go to mine. I don’t want to return _Bonfire of the Vanities_.”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, and sighs, as loudly as he can. Neither Liam nor Zayn respond.They are _so_ lame. Liam, especially, like, Louis cannot figure out his deal. The kid is a _fucking genius_ at computer codes, absolute magic, but otherwise he’s dumb as a rock. Louis doesn’t even think he can read. 

Louis opens his eyes and scans the room.

A movement catches his eye. There, across from them, sitting at a table near the door, is Harry Styles, shaking out his curls over an Algebra 2 text book.

Louis decides Harry seems significantly more cool than these two asshats, though that isn’t saying much. And Harry would have to be pretty damn stupid to beat Liam there, so...

“I need new friends,” Louis announces and, with a flip of his fringe and a roll of his shoulders, stalks away from Zayn and Liam. He drops his books down heavily beside Harry’s elbow and plops down across from him.

“You have C Lunch?”  Louis asks, peering over at his work. The problem Harry’s just finished is printed neatly, the correct answer circled. Harry’s finger marks the next problem in his book as he copies it onto the page. It doesn’t _look_ like he’s stealing the answers out of the back. _Nice_.

He’s dimpled _and_ smart.

_And probably gay._

Which, okay, _maybe_. But, Louis tells himself, that’s not important, anyway, not to him.

Harry chews his lip and nods.

“Cool, me too.” Louis looks back at Harry’s work. Louis kicks ass at functions. He kicks ass at algebra in general, really. “Who’ve you got, Walsh or Flack?”

Harry rips a sheet out of his notebook and writes, _Ms. Flack._

Louis squints at him. “Do you talk or…?” He _knows_ Harry talks. They’d talked yesterday in choir. His voice is just as deep and raspy speaking as it singing. Louis would like to hear it now.

But instead of answering with his mouth like a normal person, Harry scribbles back, _it’s the library._ He underlines the last word three times.

Ms. Caroline doesn’t care. Louis has spent the last three years talking through lunch in the library. Still, it’s a cute game. Harry’s cute. Louis writes back, _who’s your favorite superhero?_

And, well, _fuck._ That’s a stupid question. Harry probably doesn’t care about superheroes. Louis just kind of wants an excuse to show him Zayn’s drawing of Louis-as-a-superherowith big biceps and a giant cock.

_Superman_

Beside it Harry draws the Superman logo. Then he writes, _you?_

_Iron man_

Because, well, obviously.

Harry makes a face and then meets Louis eyes. Was that a poor choice? (No, it was the only choice.) Does Harry hate Iron Man? (Well then, fuck him.)

Cutting through Louis’ panicked, defensive thoughts, Harry writes, _never seen the movies, don’t really know him._

“Oh my god,” Louis practically shouts. Ms. Caroline coughs.  Lowering his voice, Louis says, “That is a crime against humanity, Harry.”

Harry giggles, and it’s lower, richer than any giggle Louis’ ever heard. Louis wishes he could record it on his phone and listen to it whenever he’s feeling sad. But that would be creepy. Maybe in a few days. After they’ve become close friends.

The bell rings to end lunch and start passing time and Liam and Zayn are heading toward them. When they stop beside the table, Liam says, eyes bright, “That was so cool, Louis. I don’t know why you left. We could take _every_ book in the library and they’d _never_ know.”

“I think they would.” Zayn coughs and Louis adds, “What do _you_ want with books, anyway?”

Liam shrugs. “Good point. I can just read everything online.”

Louis squints at him and shakes his head. “We are watching _Iron Man_ at my house on Friday. Harold here has never seen it.”

Liam’s eyes widen, appropriately scandalized. “What the crap? Are you a freshman? Maybe you were too young when it came out?”

Harry smiles at Liam. “I’m 16, a sophomore. And, like, my mom and my older sister always want to watch chick flicks, so I haven’t seen many action films. But I want to! I’d love to see Iron Man with you. Let me look in my planner.”

From beneath his notebooks, Harry tugs out a glittery gold homework planner. It’s definitely for girls. In fact, Louis’ sure his sister has the same one.

Harry opens it up and every day is covered in neatly printed notes. Some items are crossed out and others are highlighted in yellow and pink and blue.  It’s amazing.

Louis’ mom is his planner. And so is Zayn, for homework.

Harry runs a finger over Friday’s entry. “Friday’s totally free.”

It does not look totally free. Harry has at least five things already written in the space.

“Really?”

Harry grins and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah.”

~

Zayn comes home from school with Louis on Friday and Louis’ glad because when Liam’s shitty excuse rings tinnily through speakerphone, “Really sorry, I’m at a thing with my family,” Zayn replies, “You’re playing Minecraft right now. I can see you online.”

Zayn can’t really, because he’s currently drawing a sharpie tattoo on Louis’ shin. Liam might realize this, if he thinks to look for Zayn online.

He doesn’t. “Fudgemonkey. Well, I still can’t come. My sister’s got the car.”

Louis’ leg twitches and the sharpie jerks an ugly line through the elaborate swirls Zayn was working on. “You live six blocks away. Oh my god.”

“If you don’t come, you’ll regret it.” Zayn’s turning the mistake into a face with big eyes and long lashes. He’s got a point. Liam _hates_ missing out.

“Fine,” Liam agrees. “But I’m bringing my laptop.”

Harry arrives twenty minutes after Liam and he’s got Niall with him. Like, popular, junior Niall, from choir. Louis cannot think of one reason why someone like _him_ would want to spend a Friday night with _them_.

Louis looks at Harry’s rainbow bracelet. The two of them did seem awfully buddy-buddy in choir. Maybe they’re like… _that_ kind of friends.

“Sorry. I know I didn’t ask. I hope it’s okay. Niall lives next door to me and he wanted to come, too,” Harry explains.

“Iron Man’s baller,” Niall says, peering into the den where all four of Louis’ sisters are watching an episode of Phineas and Ferb. He claps Louis on the shoulder and adds, “You kind of remind me of Tony Stark.”

It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to Louis. He decides that Niall’s definitely okay, whether he’s boyfriends with Harry or not.

~

They pile into Louis’ bedroom to listen to Coldplay for a little while on the killer new speakers Louis’d saved up for over the summer.  Liam and Louis rehash their ongoing debate over who is the best Avenger for Niall and Harry’s benefit. Niall laughs at all the appropriate moments, but Harry’s quiet. He spends most of the conversation watching Louis and fiddling with his bracelets.

Louis’ desperate to ask Harry about them: what do they mean? where did he get them and when? is the rainbow one, like, a _signal?_ But it seems a little too personal. If he wanted to share, he probably would.

Louis would tell people if he wanted them to know about him, which he doesn’t, so…

So maybe Harry’s the same. Louis lets it be.

They order a pizza with some money that Harry’s mom sent along with him and finally, around nine, his sisters go to bed, freeing up the big TV in the den.

Somehow, magically, the seats are shuffled so that Harry’s beside Louis on the love seat, while the other three take the couch.

Louis thinks that if Harry and Niall were a thing, they’d probably want to sit together. Unless of course they were a secret thing, in which case they’d definitely want to sit apart.

Louis doesn’t know. What he does know is that by the time he hits play, his knee is pressed against Harry’s and the other boy’s curls are close enough that Louis can smell his fruity shampoo.

The movie begins and the tanks are rolling out in front of the mountains and Harry asks, “Where are they? Like what country do think?”

“Afghanistan,” Louis tells him, trying not to be annoyed at the interruption.

“Oh,” Harry says, brightening. “My cousin’s friend, Joe –I knew him cause he worked at this ice cream parlor my family always used to go to in Maine. That’s where my cousin lives. And his friend, too, obviously. Best chocolate shakes you’ve ever had.”

Louis pauses the movie.

Harry keeps talking. “Although the ones at Charlie’s are pretty good. Have you had them?”

Zayn groans.

“I thought we were watching Tony Stark kick butt.” Liam looks up from his laptop, openly confused and distressed.

It’s just, this is the first time Harry’s talked since he arrived and Louis doesn’t have the heart to cut him off yet. As much as he’s _pained_ to stop the movie.

“Yeah, so, Joe was about to graduate high school. And his girlfriend almost got pregnant. I’m not sure what that means, like if she had an abortion or—“

“Wow, woah, no abortion talk, it’s Friday night,” Louis warns.

That’s when Niall chokes out a soft “Finally” and starts laughing, loud and a little hysterical.

Harry shoots him a put-out pout, but after a moment he starts laughing, too. And Louis does not like that. He wants in on the joke.

“What’s so funny, gentlemen?” He’s practically shouting and he knows his mom will be in any minute to tell them to keep it down.

“Turn the movie back on, Louis,” Zayn instructs.  

Without looking away from Niall (who is _still_ laughing), Louis does so.

Harry taps him on the shoulder. “Is Iron Man in one of those tanks?”

Louis re-pauses the movie. “I can see that we need rules. Rule number one: no asking questions. Actually, for you, Harold, no talking at all.”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

Zayn says, “Talking interrupts Louis. He’s trying to get off of to RDJ and needs to be able to _focus_.”

Louis glares at Zayn. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want to watch.”

Harry giggles and Louis whirls back to him. He kind of hopes maybe Harry _would_ want to watch.

He keeps his gaze on Harry, with his eyebrows raised threateningly when he presses the button to up-pause the movie. Harry’s smile broadens suspiciously.

The moment Louis looks back at the TV, Harry says, “I remembered what I wanted to say about Joe.”

Louis tackles him, smashing his hand against Harry’s mouth. “I said ‘no talking’, you weirdo. I was very clear.”

Harry squirms beneath him, bucking his hips a little in an attempt to unseat Louis from he’s straddling him. Which, Louis realizes, _he’s straddling Harry_.  

And he’s maybe gay and Louis’ definitely gay and their crotches are pressed _together._

Louis feels his cock harden quickly, embarrassingly quickly. _It’s normal. It’s fine_ , Louis tells himself, even though it is _so_ not fine. He and Harry are hardly even friends.

Louis takes his hand off Harry’s mouth, but he doesn’t get up, even though he _really, really_ needs to. He doesn’t want to move too quickly. He might draw attention to his discomfort, to his _fucking_ erection. Oh my god.

He says, “Are you going to behave?”

Harry nods and chews his lip. He shifts beneath Louis again, and that’s when Louis feels him; Harry’s hard, too. Louis’ heartrate skyrockets.

Harry lips are pink and wet and parted. And Louis can feel his dick, hot through the fabric of both their pants. Louis wants to kiss him, to see whether he tastes like the pizza he just ate or the fireworks the movies say he’s supposed to. Louis wants to rock his hips and rub and rub and rub, like he sometimes does against his sheets, but this time against Harry’s thigh and equally excited cock. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of Louis’ short life.

“The movie?” Zayn’s voice breaks through Louis’ temporary lust haze and Louis almost gives himself whiplash as he turns to look over at him. Both he and Niall are laughing now. Liam seems to have given up completely on them, as he’s put on his headphones and is tapping furiously at his keyboard.

Drawing in a breath, Louis climbs off Harry. Wagging a finger at him, he says, “Now be quiet or I’ll have to duct tape your mouth shut. I will do it, don’t doubt me. I’ve done it before to Lottie.”

“Okay,” Harry replies, looking intrigued.

Later, after Harry’s interrupted to ask whether or not Pepper Pots is too hot for Robert Downy Jr (she’s not, Louis has no idea how Harry could even suggest such a thing), Louis does pull out the duct tape. However, his mission to silence Harry is derailed by Niall’s suggestion that they use to try to rip the hair off Liam’s legs and distract him from his game.

They do not finish Iron Man before the neighborhood’s midnight curfew sends everyone home.

~

It’s odd. For someone so concerned about the library’s ‘no talking’ rule, Harry seems not to care at all about the library’s ‘no food or drink’ policy. Exihibit A: Styles eats a banana while pretending to read _The Crucible_.

Louis knows he’s only pretending because he hasn’t flipped a page in five minutes and he seems quite intent on kicking Louis’ shin at odd intervals.

Louis has never been a banana person himself. Their mushiness reminds him of baby food. And eating them looks- Louis watches Harry dive in for his third bite- so _suggestive_.

It’s not fair; Louis’ already getting hard and Harry’s not even trying. He’s just eating a piece fruit. Shaped like dick. Shaped like Louis’ dick. His dick which he thinks Harry’s mouth would feel good wrapped around.

Louis’ never had a blow job before- he and Eleanor had only shared about four quick peck-like kisses before they stopped ‘dating’- but he’s seen porn, so he knows having your dick sucked is, like, the most amazing feeling ever.

Louis knows Harry has to finish Acts I and II of the book before next period, he said as much in choir, but he’s obviously not focusing.

So Louis passes him a note: _what are your favorite video games?_

Even though they talk every 1st period in Choir, they’ve only hung out the once, last Friday, almost a week ago now. There are things Louis needs to know for them to be _real_ friends. Video game preference is one of these things.

Harry thinks for a moment.

_wii bowling_

That’s the worst answer Louis can think of and he’s about to say so when Harry rips the paper out of his hands to write.

_no wait just dance_

Now, Louis is _very_ good at ‘Just Dance.’ He’s made sure he’s better than each of his sisters at every single song. But he would never say so.

His disdain must show on his face because Harry pulls the paper out of Louis hands again.

_we don’t have any video games at my house so i don’t really know_

Louis has the solution to this very pressing world problem.

_come over to my house and ill teach you the wonders of mariokart_

Harry chews his lip and flips the pen between his fingers.

_tomorrow?_

Tomorrow is a Thursday. Thursdays are busy days for Louis. Harry’s eyes are on his own packed planner and, sensing Louis’ hesitation, he thumbs to next week. Louis decides he can skip homework, just this once. A sacrifice for the betterment of a lowly and undereducated sophomore.

_i get home from practice around 5 come then_

Harry frowns.

_okay. practice?_

_for soccer_

Louis doesn’t really like to talk about it. Sure, he’s on Varsity, but it’s only because he’s a senior and Coach Higgins thinks his mom is hot. During games he keeps the bench warm and he’s not really friends with the other fucktard, dickbutt jocks on his team. But he does like to play, like at practice and stuff, and it’s really good for his college applications, everyone says.

Harry grins and, wow, _his dimples_ ; Louis hates (loves) them.

_cool i love watching. those uniforms!!!!_

Louis isn’t quite sure how to respond, so he draws a giant smiling dick. He _thinks_ Harry is flirting with him, but he’s not sure. Louis still hasn’t asked about that bracelet.

~

Harry’s leg is in Louis’ lap and Louis is trying not to be distracted by the heat of it seeping through his sweat pants. They’re sitting on the edge of his bed, in the middle of their third race of the Flower Cup, and Harry’s just driven Peach into the water, _again_.

Louis can’t figure out if he’s doing it on purpose or not.

Harry’s furrowed brow and well-bitten bottom lip indicate not. But the frequency with which he’s ended up there- dead in the water- make Louis think that the goofy fucker is doing it on purpose, as does the way Harry cackles madly each time Peach squeaks out, ‘ooOOOooo.’

When they finish the fourth and final course of the cup, Harry announces, “I’m getting better!”

He is.  Tenth place is better than the twelfth he’d earned in the Mushroom Cup. They watch as Louis’ Bowser awkwardly accepts his first place trophy with a growl.  

The best scores pop up on the screen and Louis’ reminded that he has yet to beat Eleanor’s Flower Cup record. They’d only played the _one_ game the _one_ time she’d come over- after which Louis’ challenged her to a round of GTA. He’d kicked her ass at that, thank God.

“Eleanor? Calder, right?” Harry says, reading Louis’ mind. “She’s, like, your girlfriend?”

Harry’s voice is soft and he fidgets with the buttons on his controller.  When Louis doesn’t answer (because he doesn’t really _know_ is the thing), Harry adds, “She has a pretty smile.”

Louis makes a face. “She’s alright.” She’s a little too skinny, a little too sharp for Louis’ taste. And she’s got no ass. Harry’s not wrong though; she has a pretty smile- her lips are wide and pink and her eyes are huge.

They do Quiz Bowl together and Louis knows she’s _really_ good at math and science, way better than most girls. Louis likes that about her.

Harry lets his mouth drop open. “She’s your girlfriend; you’re supposed to think she’s _beautiful_.”

Louis lifts an eyebrow at him and pinches his thigh. He squirms, but does not move off Louis. “How would you know? You ever had a girlfriend, little frosh-y?”

Harry stiffens and looks away. “I’m a sophomore.”

Then, before Louis can respond, Harry meets Louis’ eyes again, firmly this time, almost as if he’s challenging Louis to something. “I had lots of girlfriends in middle school. But they didn’t count. If I were going to date… someone, like _seriously date someone,_ they would have to be beautiful to me.”

Harry’s looking at him so intently now that Louis feels like he’s being judged, evaluated. _Someone,_ Harry had said, not ‘a girl’, but not ‘a boy’ either. The obvious question rattles around inside Louis’ mind, desperate to get out. Louis feels himself tense and frown with the effort to keep it inside.

Harry continues to watch him and another forbidden question wells up in Louis. He wants to know if Harry thinks he’s beautiful, whether or not he’s ‘someone’ material. Louis brushes his fringe out of his eyes and does not ask these questions either.  

“Are her boobs too small for you?” Harry suggests.

Louis lets out a breath. He tugs on one of Harry’s curls. “No,” he says. “Small boobs are nice.”

Harry reaches up to cup his chest. He squishes his pecs together in a poor imitation of cleavage. “You think so?” Then, he flicks at his own nipples and Louis can see them harden through his shirt. An echoing rush of blood floods Louis’ cock and, _fuck,_ if Harry his leg shifts right, just a bit, he’ll feel Louis’ boner. “I think mine might be _too_ small,” Harry continues, seemingly oblivious to Louis’ distress.

“You don’t have boobs.”

Harry pouts at him and pushes more fervently at his own chest. Louis shakes his head, but also pats Harry’s curls comfortingly.

He says, “It’s okay. Your curls and tight ass totally make up for it.” Louis’ voice cracks at the end and the words don’t come out quite as casually as Louis had hoped. Which, actually, he’s not sure there’s any casual way to comment on the tightness of your pal’s ass.  

Harry flushes, his cheeks and neck and the triangle of bare chest all going red. Giggling, he wiggles his ass into Louis’ lap and throws himself backward to lie across the bed. The movement shucks up his shirt and Louis’ eyes catch on the exposed skin around his hip bone.

Wanting to focus on something, anything other than the boy atop him, Louis restarts the game. He throws Harry’s controller at him, hoping he’ll sit up and move off to play the game.

Harry doesn’t. Instead, he squirms a little more, shuffling to get comfortable in Louis’ lap. His ass brushes back and forth against Louis’ cock, back and forth and back and forth, until Louis is fully hard. There’s no way Harry doesn’t feel it.

Louis’ face feels hot and his hands feel weak. He coughs, which is a bad idea because it makes his cock jerk up against Harry.

Harry stays put and doesn’t comment, but he does sit awfully still.  

Louis sneaks a look down to see if he can pick out the line of an erection in Harry’s pants. He wants to know if Harry’s equally affected. He can’t tell though because Harry’s khakis are just a tad too loose, bunched protectively around his crotch.

Harry _is_ fingering his bracelets, though, so, like, _yeah_ , Louis thinks _, he’s into it_.

~

After dinner- Easy Mac and sliced cucumbers a la Louis himself because his mom has an overnight shift at the hospital- and after his sisters are in bed, Harry follows Louis back up to his room. It’s just before ten and Louis wonders when Harry’s mom is going to pick him up. He doesn’t want to ask, though, because he _likes_ Harry’s company.

He kind of hopes Harry’s parents forget him and he stays the night, even if it _is_ a school night.

Louis lies back on his bed and checks Facebook from his phone. He thinks about snap chatting a pic of Harry’s curls to Zayn, but that would probably be weird. He doesn’t want anyone to think he and Harry are like, _you know_.

Harry pulls last year’s yearbook off his bookshelf and begins to flip through it. After a moment, he sits down beside Louis. The page he’s on has last year’s homecoming court parading across the football field in fancy attire and glittery sashes. Sure enough, Niall grins up at them in a Junior Varsity uniform that does fantastic things for his not quite manly shoulders.

“Are you going to take Eleanor this year?”

The dance is still over a month away and Louis hasn’t really thought about it. He and Eleanor went to Prom together last year, but they didn’t really talk all summer.  Well, actually, she’d sent him a few texts in June, but he’d never responded.

How was he supposed to respond to ‘ _Let’s go to the mall together!’_ when he didn’t want to ‘go to the mall together’?

“I’m not going,” Louis decides aloud. Zayn and Liam aren’t planning on going either, as far as Louis can tell. They haven’t _said_ anything and Perrie _despises_ anything involving school spirit. She’s a good fit for Zayn, in that regard, even if they never actually talk or go out or do anything besides sex stuff. And Liam’s attempts at seduction during Prom season last year have left him on the bad side of almost every moderately attainable (‘but not gross’) girl in their grade. (Personally, Louis thinks he should try for one of the ‘gross’ ones- some of them are _really_ interesting and smart- but Liamhas been working out a lot lately and thinks he’s too hot for them or something. _He’s not_.)

“You have to go.” Harry puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “It’s your _last_ chance!”

“Homecoming is stupid. It’s not like I’m going to dance, anyway.”

Now Harry looks really stricken. “You’re the best boy dancer I’ve ever seen. You _love_ to dance. You killed it in the musical last spring.”

Louis feels himself flush and he tries to shoot down the chorus of _Harry watched me dance, Harry thinks I’m good at dancing, Harry’s been paying attention to me_ that starts up in his head. Chill as fuck (and definitely not looking at Harry through his lashes) he shrugs and tosses his phone onto the bed. “I wasn’t _that_ good. I’ve never had lessons, not like Jade. And, anyway, that’s different. I’m not good at party dancing.”

Harry scoots closer to him and winks, _fucking winks_ , before saying, “I am.”

Louis laughs. “You aren’t.” It’s true. Harry’d been a hot mess at the cast party last spring, but Louis can’t stand Harry’s hurt frown so he adds, “But you… you have a lot of heart and passion.”

Harry dimples and looks back down at the yearbook. Then, slowly, he scoots closer still and meets Louis’ eyes. “I _am_ very passionate.”

Harry wets his lips and Louis feels himself mimicking the motion. Harry has _lovely_ lips, much prettier than Eleanor’s, much more kissable.

Louis _has_ kissed Eleanor. Hannah, too, several times, during sophomore year. He remembers feeling curious and a little giddy, but he does not remember feeling hot and he does not remember getting _hard_ just anticipating it.

Harry’s eyes flick down to study Louis’ lips and Louis is definitely hard _now._

Louis hopes that Harry is brave enough to close the space between them because he’s not. Harry swallows and he’s moving forward, Louis swears he is, when his phone rings loud- a kitten’s yowl- in his pocket.

Louis pulls back. “That’s obnoxious.”

Harry frowns. “You’re obnoxious.” His voice is deeper than usual and rough.

“Your mom’s obnoxious.” Louis reaches out to tug at one of his curls. Hard.

Harry laughs and nods. “Speaking of,” he pulls his phone out of his pants and brings it to his ear. “Hey, Mom.”

Louis can hear Harry mom’s shout even from a few feet away, “Harry Edward Styles, I gave you special permission to extend your curfew to 10pm as a reward for the extra credit on your social studies test. And now it’s 10:15 and you’re still not home. We’ll see if I _ever_ do that again.”

Harry chews a nail as she talks and he doesn’t move his hand away from his mouth to murmur, “It’s not my fault you haven’t picked me up, yet.”

His mom’s reply is quieter this time, but it seems to further agitate Harry. “I didn’tsay Louis _would_ drive me home. I said he _might_ drive me home.”

Louis flicks one of Harry’s nipples and mouths, “I have to stay with my sisters.”

Harry drops his arm and sits up straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be waiting by the door.”  

Harry’s mom keeps talking, louder, but soft enough that Louis can’t pick out the words. She’s still speaking when Harry rolls his eyes and says, “Bye, mom. Love you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had to be home.” For some reason, it feels important to Louis that Harry’s mom like him. He is a strange older dude and he _really_ doesn’t want her to think he’s a bad influence on her son.

Cause he’s really not a bad influence. He’s a good kid. Like, _Harry_ had been the one about kiss _him_.

Harry stands and smiles at Louis expectantly. When Louis doesn’t move, Harry extends a hand toward him. “Come on. Wait with me downstairs.”

His palm is warm and strong as pulls Louis up and Louis knows his own hands must feel cold and clammy in contrast. It’s a stupid thought because Harry’s _his friend._ He shouldn’t care what Harry thinks about the feel of his hand.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

~

It’s good they didn’t kiss, Louis thinks, even though his dick disagrees. He’s made a deal with himself- he’s supposed to wait till college. When ( _if_ ) he gets into one of his top picks, _then_ he can experiment. Then he can figure this whole boy-with-boy sex thing out.

The idea of telling everyone- or even just Zayn and Liam and his sisters- that he’s not into girls- that he’s _gay_ \- is daunting. It seems like it will be easier to explore his options in college and see how it goes before telling important people.

It’s not that he’s not _sure_. He’s _so so so_ sure that he’d like to kiss a boy (like Harry) and maybe (definitely) do things with said boy’s dick.

But he’s got a place on the soccer team and a place with his friends and a placeat the top of his class and he’s not sure how being gay _\- being out_ , he corrects himself, he _is_ gay, _he is_ \- will fit with all that. Not good, he thinks.

A ‘thing’ with Harry-the-cheeky-sophomore is not in the cards, even if he does have beautiful lips, even if he does have a spine-tingling voice, even if he is _smart_.  Even if he might want Louis, too.

~

Louis is having a _bad_ week and it’s only Tuesday.

He’s seated beside Harry in the library, having skipped out on his usual lunch with Zayn and Liam. He’s mad at them, is the thing. They’re being disloyal dickheads.

Harry passes him a note:   _?????_

Louis lifts an eyebrow. He doesn’t really want to chat. He wants to do his math homework- to maneuver numbers and formulas in their predictable patterns- to reach answers he can be certain of. He wants to feel intelligent and in control.

_you only come to the library on mondays and wednesdays_

It’s true, too. He’s been trying to limit his Harry time, to ration himself because his dick has ideas about his relationship with Harry that his brain is not on board with and he doesn’t want to encourage it.

_Z and L can suck my dick_

It gets at the truth, he thinks. Harry looks alarmed.

Louis studies him. _what? they’re being cocksuckers_

Harry chews his lip. He pulls the paper toward himself, scribbles something quickly, and then begins to pack up his stuff.

Louis grabs up the paper. _Some people like to give blowjobs. You shouldn’t use that as an insult. It’s rude. _ 

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, tugging at the sleeve of Harry’s shirt. “Stay, I’m sorry.”

Harry relaxes a bit and re-arranges his work. History worksheet today, looks like. Louis’ AP American History teacher had never given them homework like that. It looks stupid and repetitive, busywork.

Harry pulls their note paper out of Louis’ hand and places it on the table between them. As he writes a response to Louis, Louis doodles the word _blowjob_ in cursive in the margin. He wonders if Harry likes to give blowjobs and whether or not he’s ever tried before. He rubs his free hand on his thigh.

Harry finishes and pushes the paper closer to Louis.

_It’s okay, I was just surprised. Never heard you joke like that before. What’s the deal with Zayn and Liam? What did they do?_

Ugh, Zayn and fucking Liam.

_They’re siding with Mr. McGee._

Harry fingers the corner of the paper. _I thought you took AP Chem last year._

Louis writes, _I did_.

He doesn’t really want to tell the whole story to Harry. Partly because it’s kind of long and partly because he thinks he might be the one to end up looking like a dick. Maybe.

It’s just the third week of school and they had their first quiz bowl practice yesterday. First _and_ last, for Louis, turns out.

Apparently, Louis ‘ran his mouth too much’ during the business session and it was ‘throwing the election process.’ That had got him banned from running for Co-Captain, which fucking sucked, because his resume needed it _. And_ he’d be a much better captain than fucking Perrie _or_ Zayn.

Then, according to Mr. McGee, Louis was ‘testing a nerve’ by cutting Liam off with the buzzer whenever he tried to answer a question. That had gotten him suspended through the middle of October. And the ‘lip’ he’d given Mr. McGee in response had put him off the team entirely.

Louis’d departed with his head held high, expecting the team (or at least Zayn and Liam) to follow, expecting they’d want a new, less weird and mean sponsor.

But, no, Liam had informed him over the headset while they played Xbox later that night, no they had not thought Louis was being heroic. They agreed with Mr. McGee that Louis was being disrespectful. Well, Zayn hadn’t agreed aloud, but his lack of defense was telling enough.

He guesses, actually, that it might be nice to tell Harry. Harry might be on _his_ side.

_I’m off the Quiz Bowl team._

Harry reaches over and squeezes Louis’ wrist, fingers hot as they brush Louis’ pulse.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mouths. Then, he rubs at his eyes. Now that Louis really looks at him, he realizes Harry looks about as tired as Louis feels.

_Late night?_

Harry laughs.

_Studied with Cara and Taylor last night. Didn’t get much studying done._

Louis stomach turns over. He hasn’t thought much about Harry’s friends. He’d sort of assumed Harry didn’t have any, seeing as he spent _every_ lunch period in library by himself.

He’s friendly with the other choir members, but he’s clearly not close with anyone but Niall (and, now, Louis). But, Louis realizes, they’re all older than him. And being in thatchoir during first hour forces him to have lunch _now_ , with, actually, once Louis looks around, very few other honors-tracksophomores.

Cara and Taylor. Louis tries to picture them, but he can’t. They sound pretty, though, and that makes Louis a little nervous. Even though, he really, really thinks Harry’s not so into the vag.

Still, Louis’d found having a girlfriend awfully convenient last year. Harry might do the same.

_What did you do instead? Paint your nails?_

Harry splays his hands out in front of Louis and Louis runs his own finger over the edge of one unpainted thumbnail. Apparently not.

Harry withdraws his hands.

_Talked about fashion and boys and kissing and blowjobs._

Louis tilts his head to one side about to make a snide remark when Harry tacks on: _I was the expert on ‘what boys like’_

This amuses Louis into laughter so loud that he earns a cough and glare from Ms. Caroline.

_You haven’t been kissed OR blown. You don’t even know what YOU like._

Harry’s chewing on his finger. It’s a habit that is equal parts endearing and disgusting. Louis pulls the finger out of his mouth and points to their notepaper. He would like Harry to respond to his insult, thank you very much.

Not that he’s, like, curious whether or he’s right or not. That wouldn’t matter to him at all. (Yes, it would).

 _We also made_ brownies _and straightened Leigh-Ann’s hair._

_Pot brownies?_

Harry glares at him and shakes his head.

Harry may have friends, Louis decides, but they are boring friends. _You need to come to a real party. With booze and boys._

Harry taps his pen a minute or two before responding and it makes Louis anxious. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hard on Harry’s friends. Maybe Harry likes that better than playing Mario Kart and watching Iron Man and making dinner for Louis’ sisters.

Finally, after Louis’ stomach has tied itself up in knots, Harry replies.

_Will there be blowjobs?_

Louis pulse picks because he thinks that might sort of maybe be a come on and he kind of wants to write back ‘are you offering’, but he’s not sure so he rolls his eyes and writes, very super chill, _maybe_

They meet eyes and Harry swallows. _Okay, when?_

Louis’ shoulders sag with relief. Harry wants to come to a party with him that might involve blowjobs. Great, awesome, perfect.

He looks back at the paper, excited to respond except that then he remembers that he doesn’t have a party planned and, in fact, he currently doesn’t have any cool senior friends to plan it with, only Harry.

 _I’ll get back to you on that,_ he writes and then doodles a drunken-looking stick person with a giant dick.

~

Louis is _very_ lucky on the Harry Supercool Party front because he happens upon Liam’s mom the next day. She’s sitting in the front seat of her minivan, shaking her head, brow furrowed with worry as she searches the mass of students for Liam.

Liam, of course, is changing after his seventh hour weight lifting class. Mrs. Payne must _know_ this- she’s picked Liam up from school every afternoon since the second day of kindergarten when he’d complained that the smell of the bus made his tummy hurt- but Louis thinks she feels it is her motherly duty to fret anyway.

Louis waves enthusiastically as he approaches her, plastering on his best Good Influence smile. “I’m really looking forward to coming over and hanging out Saturday with the other guys.”

Her eyes widen as she laughs, clearly surprised _and_ delighted. Louis knew she would be.

“That’s wonderful. I’ll have to grab some frozen pizzas. Liam didn’t say he’d invited _friends_ over.”

Mrs. Payne is very glad that Liam has ‘such a nice group of friends.’ And she doesn’t hesitate to say so, often tearfully. “He spends so much time with that machine. You guys are so good for him.”

And that’s how they all end up in Liam’s basement at 6pm, loaded down with pizzas and Cheetos and Mountain Dew watching Scarface on Liam’s Dad’s sweet projector and Bose sound system.

Liam might be angry with Louis for blowing his spot in Quiz Bowl and then blaming Liam for the whole incident (which, Louis’ still mad because he _should_ have stood with _Louis_ on this one), but Liam _hates_ disappointing his mom.

The problem is that Harry’s going to show up in ten minutes and Louis’d promised him a _party._ Zayn, Liam, Josh, Eleanor, Perrie, Danielle and Louis shouting over the movie about which science teacher is the biggest tight-ass is not even close to a party.

Louis knows because he’s actually been to a party before, with the soccer team. Parties have music and booze and girls with their tits out.  It hadn’t exactly been Louis’ scene, but it had been _cool_.

The closest Louis’ come to creating a ‘cool’ party atmosphere is purchasing a bottle of vodka from one of the other soccer bench warmers who’s got an older brother very willing to supply, for the right price. Still, he hasn’t had the courage to pull it out of his bag yet because Liam’s mom keeps coming down with more food and a wet, disbelieving smile. Danielle is sitting next to Liam on the floor and while there’s at least 18 inches between them, Louis wouldn’t dream of denying Mrs. Payne the hope-laden looks she’s been sending the couple.

Harry arrives looking ready for the club- thin white shirt, tight dark jeans sliding down his hips, and artfully gelled hair- and Louis, for (maybe not quite) the first time in his life, regrets that his friends would rather watch shit blow up on their TVs than sneak into karaoke bars.

Harry situates himself next to Louis on the couch. It’s a tight squeeze with Eleanor and Josh his other side and their thighs and shoulders press together. Mouth against Louis’ ear, Harry murmurs, “What’s happening in the movie?”

The light brush of lips and the deep rumble of Harry’s voice send a spike of arousal straight down Louis’ spine.  And he has to replay the question several times before he makes out its meaning at which moment he also remembers Harry’s terrible movie manners.

“I’ve seen this movie twelve times. We’re playing Truth or Dare,” Louis announces.

“Okay,” Eleanor says, perking up, at the same time as Perrie says, “What are we, twelve?!”

Perrie and Zayn are on their own couch, underneath a blanket. Zayn’s eyes are closed, but his jaw isn’t nearly slack enough to indicate sleep. Louis is 100% sure that Perrie’s got her hands down his pants and doesn’t want to be interrupted. Still, he’s a little insulted. He pulls out the vodka and holds it out. “If you turn down a dare or a question, you have to take a drink.”

Zayn’s eyes open and he smiles. Louis thinks they might be best friends again. Either that or Perrie’s finished him off.

Liam, on the other hand, says, “No.”

“Why not?” Louis returns. “You scared?”

Liam’s eyes are huge and he’s leaning forward and nodding toward the stairs. “I will get in _so much trouble_.”

“Your mom’s not going to find out, you big baby.”

Harry shifts next to him. When Louis looks he’s flipping the beads on his rainbow bracelet and after a second he says, “Technically nobody has to drink. If you always do your dare or answer the question, you’re off the hook.”

Louis’ heart soars. It’s stupid but, like, _Harry has his back_. He thinks Louis’ idea sounds reasonable (and hopefully also ‘cool’).  This party is now officially a success.

~

The eighteen inches between Danielle and Liam have disappeared, probably because Liam has foregone the last three of Louis’ dares for a swig of the vodka. (Louis didn’t think ‘dance naked for your parents’- Harry’s whispered idea- had been that outrageous of a suggestion, but Liam’s misgivings about the liquor had evaporated after that.)

It’s Danielle’s turn and she’s scanning the room speculatively. Her eyes keep landing on Liam and then darting away. Louis thinks she should man up and dare him to French kiss her or whatever.

“Perrie,” she decides. Perrie smiles, slowly, blinking in a way that accentuates her long eyelashes. The blanket is still in place over her and Zayn and Louis’ thinks that Zayn’s hands have probably been down her pants as well by now. Which, vaginas. Ew. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” Perrie says. Girls areso boring. They’ve picked ‘truth’ every fucking time. Harry, on the other hand, has completed the two dares lobbed his way, though he’d wanted a swig of vodka before texting the President of the Student Council a dick pick, ‘for courage.’ Louis likes his style.

Danielle places her hand carefully atop Liam’s and Louis can’t help but feel a little proud of his buddy-boy. Liam looks like he’s about to pee his pants.

“Okay, Perrie, who, _in this room,_ do you think would make the hottest couple?”

Louis takes them in- her and Liam. They’re pretty hot. Liam’s been filling out really well, especially now that he’s training with the football team in weight-lifting class. But if he’s being totally objective and totally honest, Louis wouldn’t choose them. He’d have to say Harry and Zayn.

“Harry and Zayn,” Perrie agrees.

Wait.

“What?” It’s Harry who’s spoken up. His brows are drawn together in puzzlement, but the flush on his cheeks indicate that he’s quite pleased. “Do girls like that? Seeing boys, like, ‘ _together’_?”

Eleanor giggles and Perrie answers, “Fuck, yeah.”

Danielle looks put out, but she’s not disagreeing. So that’s interesting.  Louis takes a gulp of vodka and wonders if, with this new knowledge, he might be able to contrive a way for him and Harry to kiss- like, for the game. It would allow him to get his mouth on Harry without it being a thing, without him having to _talk_ about it or even indicate that he wants it.

Cause, like, he really, _really_ wants it.

Zayn’s hooded gaze is already focused on Harry when Perrie says, “Actually, that’s a great idea, Harry. I dare you to kiss Zayn.”

Liam protests, “You didn’t even ask him ‘truth or dare.’”

Harry looks at Louis who cannot sort out his thoughts. He’s already picturing Harry and Zayn kissing and he really wants to see it- boys, _pretty boys_ , kissing right in front of him- but also he might burn them both to the ground in a wild flame of jealousy. Or, maybe, he’ll get noticeably hard- he’s close now- and people will _know._  

“It’s okay, Liam. I would have chosen ‘dare,’” Harry says, beginning to crawl across the floor toward the love seat.

He climbs up to straddle Zayn’s lap over the blanket and Louis isn’t even trying to pretend to be grossed out or look away. Granted, neither is anyone else.

Zayn’s eyes are closed and their lips are centimeters apart, when Harry sits back suddenly. Turning to Perrie, he says, “I can’t. I’m not a homewrecker.”

She pouts and Louis’ certain a truth or dare kiss would not wreck her and Zayn’s ‘home.’ He thinks the two of them must engage in some sort of pouty-face stare down, but he’s too busy watching the way that Zayn’s fingers move to Harry’s hip and slip underneath his shirt.

“Is it because Zayn’s a boy?”

Harry shakes his head and then giggles. “That’s fun.” He repeats the motion. “The room’s moving with me.”

Aside from Zayn who Louis is _sure_ has had lots of experience with alcohol because of his older cousins, Harry’s had the most to drink and his bubbliness increases with every sip. Louis’ not sure if he’s more worried or charmed.

Perrie squints. “Then you should kiss Louis. He’s hot _and_ single.”

Eleanor leans over to shoot Louis _a look_ , but neither of them disagree with Perrie’s statement. He still hasn’t asked her to Homecoming.

“Okay.” Harry turns and he’s smiling, dimples out, the full force of it directed right at Louis. Louis swallows and carefully does not move.

Harry’s crawling back across the floor on his hands and knees. He growls at Louis. His hair floats around him giving the illusion of a mane, but Louis doesn’t see a lion. He sees a kitten. A very, very happy kitten.

Louis decides he needs to do something, anything, _everything_ ¸ to minimize his own embarrassment, so when Harry reaches him, Louis doesn’t give him time to crawl up on him, as he’d done with Zayn.  Instead, he leans forward in his seat and presses a quick kiss to Harry’s lips.

He hopes that if Harry _is_ like him, if Harry does want to kiss lots of boys, this is not his first boy-kiss. Because it’s too quick and too dry and too public to be good.

Perrie snorts, “Sorry, boys. That definitely doesn’t count. Louis, _Harry_ has to kiss _you_. It was his dare.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows at Louis and Louis wonders just how drunk he is. He seems way more comfortable, way more bold, than Louis feels. He reaches up and grabs Louis’ face, a hand on either side of his head, and pulls him into a much sloppier kiss.

It’s not a great kiss, definitely not worth any questions it might raise. When Louis tries to pull away again, Harry lets out a desperate little whimper. It’s probably the sexiest thing Louis’ ever heard, but he needs to hear it again to be sure. Harry tugs him closer, _hard_ , at the same time as Louis starts to lean forward and the combined force sends them both tumbling back onto the floor.

As they go, Harry’s shoe catches on the open bottle of vodka toppling it over.

“Darn it! You guys, my parents just put in new carpeting! _Shoot shoot shoot_.”

Louis’ pretty sure they’d have been able to clean up the mess, except that Liam’s now shouting loud enough to grab the attention of his parents. He hears the thump thump thump of someone making their way down to the basement and knows he’s in deep shit.

~

Liam’s mom is crying as she apologizes to each parent that arrives to pick up their child. The vodka wasn’t hers- neither she nor Liam’s father drink hard liquor- and ‘the kids’ – that’s what she’s calling them- won’t say who brought it.

Harry’s mother’s eyes are hard as she greets him and Louis thinks he might barf. This is it. She’ll never let them hang out again. Harry throws his arms around her as they walk out the door and he must shout-cry ‘sorry’ over a hundred times before they’re out of earshot.

Louis’ own mom can’t pick him up as she’s alone with the girls, and so Perrie’s dad drives him home. When she greets him at the door, his mom says, “I know it was you who brought the liquor, Louis.”

“You can’t know that,” Louis replies, probably giving himself away. It’s not a like he can get himself into worse trouble at this point.

“Louis.” His mother looks at him, _really looks at him_. “Let’s talk, honey.”

He follows her into the dining room. He does not want to talk. He wants to go up to his room and relive Harry’s kiss over and over and over again. And then he wants to wallow in the shame of knowing that they’ve really blown it and their relationship will probably consist of choir gossip and library notes forever. Not that Louis wants more than that.

_Fuck._

“Mr. Edwards told me you’re off the Quiz Bowl team.”

Louis’ eyes fly up to meet hers. “Yeah, um…”

She sighs and crosses her arms. “What happened?”

Louis thinks about Mr. McGee’s disdain for him and about how none his friends followed him out of the classroom. He thinks about Harry and that kiss and wonders how obvious his boner had been to everyone else. He thinks about how he and Harry will probably sadly never get to touch boners.

“I hate high school.” It’s not much of an explanation, not really, but it’s true. “I can’t _wait_ for college.”

His mom sighs. “I know, boobear.”

And she _does_ know, of course. He can’t hide anything from her and she’d _known_ something was off when he’d stopped seeing Eleanor. When he’d come home from soccer camp unable to shut up about the junior from across the state, _Aiden_ , she’d dragged it all out of him. His stupid crush. The details of his ‘relationship’ with Eleanor and Hannah. His growing certainty that he was one of ‘the homosexuals’ (as his grandmother so kindly referred to them) and his hope that once he got to college he could _do something_ about it.

“After today,” Louis tells her, “I’m thinking something overseas. Maybe Oxford.”

She frowns, “You’re not even going to community college without scholarships. You can’t keep getting into trouble. I don’t care how smart you are or how high you keep scoring on these tests. _You need the extracurriculars_. Coach Higgins is _sure_ that’s your weak spot. ”

Louis closes his eyes and nods. She’s right and he’s not sure what to do about it.

When he opens them, she smiling and it catches him off guard. “What?”

She laughs. “That’s not all is it? There’s a boy, isn’t there.”

“No,” he practically shouts. She purses her lips and shakes her head, seeing clearly through his lie, so he frowns and says, “Okay, maybe.”

Even though she tries with all her motherly might, he doesn’t let her get any more out of him.

~

So, of course, after the heart to heart with his mother, Louis does the totally responsible thing and gets his ass kicked off the soccer team.

He doesn’t mean to- it’s just,he’s been thinking _a lot_ about Harry and that kiss and his conversation with his mom and what all of it might mean for his future. So when a few of his teammates are going on about ‘the faggoty choir boy,’ he doesn’t even listen long enough to figure out if they’re talking about him or one of his friends before he’s throwing a punch squarely into the jaw of one of the starting forwards.

The fight doesn’t end well for him- he’s smaller and not quite quick enough to avoid the answering shove and punch- and when the three guys who’d witnessed the throw down tell Higgins that Louis just up and started punching people for no goddamn reason, Louis doesn’t argue.

A few minutes after sending the rest of the boys out for warm-ups, Higgins invites Louis into his office and offers him an ice pack and a pointed frown. “We have a zero tolerance policy for fighting. Usually getting into it during practice puts you off the team- at least for a few games- and gets you suspended from classes. Friday’s our last regular season game, so unless the Offense gets it’s shit together, this will be it for you and soccer, Louis. And when I let the office know tomorrow morning, it’ll go on your record. _Colleges admissions offices_ are going to see this.”

Louis’ heart drops, but he stays quiet and gives the man a tight nod.  

Higgins sighs, “Damn it, Louis. This is not like you- well, actually, you do have some issues with self-control, but you’ve never been violent before. What happened?”

Louis shrugs. “He was talking shit.”

“About you? Was it bullying? Verbal assault?”

Louis thinks about it. He’s not quite sure how to name the _problem_ with what the other boy had said and he’s not about to give a detailed explanation of the encounter. There’d be too many questions that he reallydoes not want to answer. He shakes his head. “Just, you know, _shit_ talk.”

The deepening frown on Higgins’ face looks almost painful. “Louis, you talk more ‘shit’ than _anyone_ on the team. And, _thank god_ , nobody goes around punching you.”

“I’m not sorry I did it.” It’s true, but Louis doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s just thinking it and then also suddenly saying it at the same time.

The frustrated confusion Higgins lays on him in response is painful, but not nearly as painful as his mother’s tired disappointment when he lets her know what happened and the consequences. It’s late when he tells her, and she’s just off an 18 hour shift at the hospital. She’s got to be exhausted. He tries to tell himself that’s why he hears her crying into her microwaved leftovers as he heads up the stairs to bed.

~

He’s still got a black eye when he returns to school two days later. Harry sits next to him in choir and keeps shooting him these wide-eyed, searching looks. Louis pretends not to notice.

When Ms. T turns to focus on the Sopranos, Harry whispers a not-at-all-hushed, “What _happened_ to you?!”

Louis doesn’t answer.

Harry repeats the question, dropping the whisper, which has Ms. T turning to them to say, “Quiet, Louis, or I’ll separate you two.”  

It’s not fair, her assumption that _Louis_ is causing the disruption, but Louis _cannot_ mess up choir, so he stays quiet and glares hard at Harry. Harry pouts and then refuses to look at him for the remainder of the period, something that turns out to be equally as distracting for Louis as his earlier pestering.

Louis doesn’t even buy a lunch before searching out Harry in the library. He’s at his usual table eating a tunafish sandwich and paging through a battered copy of Huckleberry Finn. Louis hates tuna _and_ Mark Twain.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down across from Harry. Things haven’tbeen awkward between them since the kiss, not until this morning. But they haven’t really interacted either, what with Harry’s furious studying for his math test during Monday lunch and Louis’ suspension Tuesday and Wednesday.

Harry flinches, but doesn’t look up from the book. Apparently, they’re still not talking.

“Sorry about earlier,” Louis says.

Harry’s lips move as he reads, brow furrowed in uncharacteristic concentration.

“I’ve gotten myself into a little bit of trouble,” Louis admits.

Harry sets his book down and faces him looking very, very sad. “Obviously, Lou. You look like you got into a fight with a bear and you were gone for two whole days. What happened? How can I help?”

Louis grabs Harry’s book and writes in the margin of one of the pages, _I’m off the soccer team_.

Harry’s face falls. Beside Louis’ writing, he adds, ☹ _weren’t they supposed to honor the seniors in Saturday’s game?_

Louis is glad that Harry didn’t asked _why_ he’d been kicked off the team and he’s surprised that Harry knows about Senior Day. And he’s even more surprised when Harry continues, _i was planning on going._

A little thrill chases up and down Louis’ spine at the thought that Harry might have made plans to see _him_ play, that he _knew_ that Saturday was a special game for Louis and he wanted to be there. But then Harry tacks on, _Niall has some friends on the team. We were going to go together._

Louis knows that his face falls because he doesn’t have the energy to control his disappointment. And actually, he deserves props because he doesn’t write ‘fuck Niall _’_ even though he really, really considers it. Instead, he writes back, _have fun_ _☺_

Harry frowns at him. _You should come, too. For your friends._

Louis scribbles back, _not my friends_

Harry shoots him a disbelieving look and so he explicates, _I punched David._

This makes Harry choke out a giggle that turns into a full out laugh that turns into some sort of fit that has him falling out of his chair. Louis isn’t sure what’s so funny.

“Have you been possessed?” he asks because it seems as good an explanation as any.

Harry beams up at him from the floor where he’s now spread eagle on his back. “I really, really like you, Lou.”  

He says it and Louis’ breathing stops, his heart stops, time stops, everything stops. Harry’s words are so simple and Louis can tell that he _really_ means them. Harry probably didn’t even think about  what he was saying before he said it- Louis’ certainly said the same thing to him before and not meant anything by it (not really). But for some reason, a reason Louis _cannot_ examine too closely, Harry’s approval makes the whole debacle worth it.

Across the top of the page in big, bold capital letters Louis writes, _ME TOO CURLY!!!_

As he inspects his work, Louis hopes that Harry’s book isn’t school property cause he’s never going to be able to return it covered in Louis’ penned notes.

~

Louis doesn’t end up going to the game with Harry and Niall. He doesn’t want to have to hug and congratulate the other boys on the team, the seniors who’ve been doing this right alongside Louis since freshman year. And he does not want to face their questions or, worse, their concern and pity.

Harry texts him throughout the whole thing though- unhelpful remarks that show an appalling lack of knowledge about the game- and he sends a picture of the digital screen that flashes Louis’ name alongside the other seniors at halftime.

Louis appreciates the gesture. It might even be better than having to warm the bench in his final game.

But even more, he appreciates that Harry shows up at his house after the game, with his huge dimpled smile and without Niall _._

He’s so busy taking in Harry’s delight and trying to hold his own back that it takes him a second to realize that Harry is wearing his jersey. He snaps the fabric around Harry’s arm. “How’d you get this? Did you, like, wear it during the game?”

Louis not sure what he wants the answer to be. On the one hand, he _loves_ the idea of Harry wearing his 17. In fact, seeing him in Louis’ clothing has arousal pooling warm and heavy in the pit of his stomach. On the other hand, it’s so not a _friend_ thing to do and considering _why_ Louis’d punched David, like- people might start to suspect things.  

Harry flushes bright red. He’s quiet for a moment, looking all around Louis’ cramped foyer. Finally, he tugs at the bottom of the shirt and meets Louis’ gaze straight on. “Coach Higgins gave it to me after the game, to give to you cause he knew we were friends. Apparently, you left it in your locker. And it was clean and it kind of smelled like you and, I don’t know, I wanted to come here and show that even if you didn’t get to be recognized this afternoon at the game, you know, I think you deserve to be recognized.”

Louis feels like he has to wait _forever_ for Harry to explain.

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to look like my cheerleader girlfriend?” It comes out more sincere and less like ribbing than he intends, but it makes Harry pink all the same.

Moving around Louis into the living room, he replies very softly, “Yeah, cheerleader _boy_ friend, maybe.”

Louis plops down next to him on the couch and focuses on the television. Lottie’s the only other one home this evening and she’s left the baseball playoffs on. Apparently, one of the starting pitchers has the _cutest_ smile, and so she’s been watching the first few innings of all his games. Louis’ about to flip to something else, something less bone-achingly dull, when Harry says, “I wish I could redesign their uniforms. They have so much potential.”

Louis turns to look at him, slowly taking in his baggy jeans and the woven bracelets (and rainbow beads) on his wrist and the way Louis’ soccer jersey leaves a small patch of skin visible on his hip. “Oh, you’re a fashion expert, now?”

The corners of Harry’s mouth turn down, “Well I know enough to say that guys with nice butts should wear clothes that flatter them. And that uniform _does not flatter them_.”

Louis raises one eyebrow. He agrees, but he also likes seeing Harry squirm. Because he is. Literally squirming.

“That’s what the girls say, at least,” Harry adds, turning back to the game.  

“They’re right,” Louis informs him in a tone that suggests he knows much more than he actually does. It has the intended effect, though, because Harry flips back toward him.

“ _You_ know about fashion?”

Louis mostly wears skate shirts, washed out jeans, and soccer shorts, but he _does_ know what looks good. He’s got a whole wardrobe revamp planned for next fall.

He smirks at Harry. “Yeah, you’ll notice I’m the one wearing clothes that fit me.”

Harry grins back at him. “This shirt? Yeah, you’re right. It’s a bit big in the shoulders. I should probably take it off.  Shirtless. That’s _way_ more fashionable.”

Which, that’s not what Louis wanted to happen at all. He _likes_ Harry in his clothes, ill-fitting though they may be.

“Don’t be stup-“ he begins.

But then he stops because Harry is actually reaching for the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. He has a milky white stomach and four nipples.

“You have four nipples,” Louis informs him. “You’re like a cow.”

Harry nods as if this fact delights him and plucks at his extras.

“It’s udder-ly fantastic,” he tells Louis.

Louis laughs. It’s not funny, but Harry’s so ridiculous, sprawled out on his couch, half-naked, nipples hard. Louis’ mind gets a little stuck on that- the puckered, pink nubs.  Because if Harry’s nipples are hard, there’s a good chance that his dick’s getting there, too.  It takes more self-control than Louis knew he had not to look down to check for an erection.

Instead, he refocuses on the baseball game, searching for action or the score or anything to comment on.

Harry pokes him in the shoulder. “Hey.”  

Louis sighs. “I’m _trying_ to watch the game.”  Harry’s tendency to talk through films apparently carries through to television, too- to sports even. Even though Louis could care less about _this_ game, he finds Harry’s audacity troubling. For their future.

Their future as friends, which will just last through this school year, _obviously._ Because, even if he has to become a homeless busker and go to community college part time, Louis is finding his way to England or New York City (or at least Berkeley) next fall.  

Harry digs his finger in even harder, making Louis’ bicep _ache._ “You’d be more fashionable without a shirt, too.”

Louis pulls down on the hem of his shirt. Harry’s wrong, is the thing. Harry may be comfortable flashing his nippled and acne-ridden chest around, but he’s not soft in the tummy like Louis, nor does he have a weird patch of straggly hairs popping up on his nipples and between his pecs. And his skin is white all over, no exaggerated tan lines from soccer practice.

He says, “I’m not a slut, _like some people_. I like to keep my clothes _on,_ Harold.”

Harry laughs and his fingers, which had been lingering by Louis’ shoulder, dive down to tickle Louis’ ribs. Louis isn’t proud of the high-pitched squeal that he lets loose, nor of the giggles that follow. The fight that follows isn’t fair which is fine with Louis. Harry’s slower, clumsier and about ten times more sensitive than Louis.

Louis has Harry pinned in less than a minute and it’s deja vu with Louis straddling Harry, both of them panting and smiling and noticeably hard. But this this time, after all that’s happened between them, Louis finds the courage to lean down and kiss him.

It’s a quick decision and a jerky downward movement and so when their lips crash together, Louis thinks that they’re both a little surprised. After a moment or two though, they find a rhythm, licking and twisting and leaning to a heady, rushed sort of beat, probably set by the thudding of Louis’ pulse.

It’s the _first time_ Louis’ ever kissed _anybody_ like this. He can’t linger on the thought, though, because Harry is moaning into his mouth.

Louis’ fingers somehow find their way into Harry’s hair and he pulls him upright so that Louis’ sort of sitting in Harry’s lap. The movement slides their dicks closer together and Louis can’t help it. The friction is _addictive._

He arches forward again, pushing Harry to the floor, trying to feel out the exact shape and size of Harry’s dick, stiff and hot against his thigh. It’s big, he thinks, long and fat and—and then Harry’s thigh shifts down so that hard muscle presses tight to Louis’ own dick.

They’ve sort of lost track of the kissing, but Louis doesn’t think he minds, as long as Harry does not stop rocking up and up and up against him.

He thinks they might be making a lot of noise. Harry’s whining Louis’ name and cuss words that Louis is mildly surprised to hear him say. His own breathing seems so loud and the floorboards squeak, Louis _knows_ it does, but he can’t seem to tune into it, to check if they’ll draw attention, not when the heat is building and building.

Harry stills and his teeth sink into Louis neck. The bite of it is painful, but in good way, stinging and tickling and sizzling down to his groin which Louis continues to thrust against Harry’s. Harry is whimpering, now, and when his mouth releases Louis’ skin and he turns his head to pant against Louis’ ear, Louis comes, too, his release wetting his underwear and the front of his pants.

He collapses on top of Harry, realizing suddenly just how tired his arms had become holding himself up. They’re quiet for a few minutes, breathing slowly quieting and evening out, and Harry traces patterns on Louis’ back through his shirt that he tries desperately to decipher. He thinks Harry is spelling something out- passing him a note.

His whole body is singing, though, skin tingling, mind ringing and he doesn’t have the patience to figure it out.

Finally, driven a little mad by the silence, he says, “That was nice.”

Harry nods into his neck. “Yeah.” It’s soft and maybe unsure. And that makes Louis feel unsure.

“LOUIS?!” Lottie shouts down the stairs at the same as Harry’s phone starts vibrating in his jean pocket. The commotion startles him and he rolls, throwing Louis off him and onto the floor.

“Oh my god, Harry, watch yourself.” He’s ready to continue with the verbal harassment. It seems like a good direction to head since he has no idea what the fuck just happened between them or how to talk about it. But then Lottie’s pattering down the stairs and poking her head into the room.

Her frown is dark. “What about dinner?” she asks.

“What do you mean, ’what about dinner’?” Louis tries to think about dinner, but he’s instead he’s wondering if, as a twelve year old, she has enough information about sex to discern what they’ve been doing. It would have been obvious to him at that age, what with the smell and the stains on their pants, not to mention Harry’s wild-ass hair and too-red red lips.

“Ugh.” Ever the actress, she throws her hands up into the air and storms into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’m ordering pizza and _you’re_ paying for it.”

Louis looks back up at Harry who’s looking down at him in return. Harry frowns and looks back down at his phone as he says, “My mom was the one who texted and she’s about to make dinner and then maybe go out to a movie with her friends so she wants to know how long I’ll be staying here and I’m not sure, like, what to tell her.”

His shirt is still off and Louis wants to kiss him again. And maybe help him sort out his hair. He’s not sure either would be allowed, so Harry should _probably_ go home.

Harry’s phone buzzes with another text. He opens it up and smiles as he reads it. After a moment he says, “I’m not like, I don’t have lots of homework to do or anything.”

Louis wants to know who he’s texting, if it’s his mom or another one of his friends. He wants to know if he’s saying anything about Louis or what they just did. Louis doesn’t think so. _He’s_ not going to tell anyone. Although, if Harry were a girl, Louis might tell Zayn.

Which, _shit._ Zayn.

Zayn was supposed to come over, like, hours ago.

Louis digs out his own phone and says to Harry, “Actually, Zayn and I were going to play video games tonight.”

Sure enough, he’s got four texts from Zayn:

_what up_

_bro_

_call me_

_shit man_

Harry leans forward to peer over Louis’ shoulder. It’s rude, but Louis doesn’t have anything to hide so he lets Harry read.

“I can go, I guess,” Harry tells him. When Louis looks up at him, he’s running his hands over his arms like maybe he’s cold.

Louis types, _Sorry. I was with Harry_

Almost immediately, Zayn sends back, _cool he still there?_

Harry stands up and looks around the room. “Can I borrow a shirt? I left my other one in Niall’s car when I changed into your jersey.”

Louis smiles up at him, thinking about the way Harry had looked with Louis’ number on his back. “Just take the jersey,” he tells him.

Louis hopes he’s not crazy or infatuated enough to, like, wear it to school or something. The thought of what people might say turns Louis’ stomach. But maybe Harry’ll wear it to bed or around his house on lazy Saturdays. Louis feels _very_ good about that possibility.

Maybe too good.  

To Zayn, Louis writes, _No. Harry went home._

And Harry does, just a few minutes later, so it’s not really a lie.

~

Louis loses spectacularly to Zayn at GTA. Over and over and over again. He can’t focus. Every time he’s just getting into the zone, his mind replays what happened between him and Harry, right here, right on the couch where he’s now sitting with Zayn playing XBox like it’s a normal Saturday night in Louis’ life. Which it is not. It has been a decidedly _ab_ normal night.

Like, Louis’ life has changed, or something.

No, it’s definitely changed.

He’s never made out with anyone (unless he counts one sort of wet kiss with Eleanor or his and Harry’s ‘Truth or Dare’ kiss, but neither of those involved _tongue_ ) and he’s never taken off anyone’s clothes (not even just a top) and he’s never humped anyone’s leg and he’s _definitely_ never gotten off with anyone.

It’s so much so fast and it’s awesome and terrifying. _And Harry is a boy._

He kind of wishes he could talk to Zayn about it, the sex especially. He’s pretty sure that he and Perrie have done _stuff,_ though he’s not sure how much. Given the discrepancy in dick to vagina ratio, he’s not sure Zayn would be so helpful on the logistics front, but maybe he’d have some insight about whether you’re supposed to talk about what happened or ask about the future and whether you’re supposed to say, like, _feelings_ things.

To Louis’ horror, Zayn has noticed his weirdness. He’s asked about Louis’ time with Harry _and_ about what’s putting Louis so off his game. Luckily, Louis has managed to derail both conversations with a snide comment about Zayn’s hair and face.

At the very least, this convinces Zayn that Louis isn’t dying or any too serious. (Not that Louis wouldn’t talk shit on his death bed.)

And even though Louis’ existential panic continues throughout the weekend- he just can’t figure out what it _means_ \-  he thinks he must be hiding it sort of well because his usually very perceptive mother doesn’t say a word to him about it.

It’s almost disappointing, is the thing. Louis thinks _she_ might know whether or not Harry leaving with his jersey meant that he wanted something _more_ with Louis and whether or not something _more_ would be worth it in the long run.

~

Louis’ heartbeat races when Harry approaches Louis first thing in Choir on Monday. He needs to say something neutral, something _chill_.

“Hello Harold, did my jersey make a comfortable sleep shirt?” So Louis is the least chill person in the universe. Whatever. It’s not like anyone can tell that he jerked off to the thought of Harry wearing his shirt to bed or anything. He hopes.  

Harry flushesbright pink. “What? No, I mean… What?” He’s clearly embarrassed, but he meets Louis gaze dead on, searching.

Louis (unsuccessfully) bites back a smile and, with a mental _fuck it_ , waggles his eyebrows hoping Harry telepathically receives Louis’ fantasy of the two them reenacting Saturday with Harry _only_ wearing Louis’ jersey.

Harry’s eyes go wide and dark, so Louis’ pretty sure he’s got the idea. Louis’ dick twitches and he sits up a little straighter, fixing his shirt and opening the music up in front of him.

Despite the fact that they’re learning a new and quite difficult piece and despite Ms. T’s long and repeated glares, Harry’s eyes stay trained on Louis throughout the period. Louis wants to give him shit for it, but every time he glances over to do so, the rush of blood to dick has him openmouthed and wordless.

~

Liam invites Louis to the gym at lunch. They’d gotten into an argument about the weight machines over snapchat last week and Louis’d somehow found himself betting $20 (which he does not have) that he could leg press more than Liam.  

They’d planned to settle things today, but when they’re in the locker room trying to figure out which of their basketball shorts smell the least terrible, Louis receives a text from Harry.

_present for you in the library_

“Shit,” Louis tells Liam. “There’s a thing. Very important. That I forgot to do for seventh hour.”

Liam frowns at him. “But Mr. Cowell is out at a conference. Zayn says you’re just watching some episodes of Bill Nye the Science Guy from his VHS collection.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and puts on his pissiest expression. “Since when do you know my assignments better than me, Liam? You’re not even honors track. The only AP class you’re in is Computer Science.  I have to do some ‘rigorous coursework’ in the library.”

Liam’s face goes soft and hurt, like Louis’d smacked him. If Louis were a better friend, he’d stick around, reassure Liam that he doesn’t think he’s _that_ dumb. But he’s not really a good friend and Harry’s waiting for him, with a ‘ _present_.’ He loves getting gifts _so much._

When he arrives in the library, Harry isn’t in their usual spot beside the World History section and just a few feet away from Ms. Caroline’s desk. Instead, he’s much further back, at a table behind the shelf displaying colorful poetry anthologies in the middle of room.  

Louis is surprised to find Harry buried in a notebook Louis’ never seen before.  When he tries to peer into it, he sees that it’s filled with short, poetic looking phrases, set off in repetitive stanzas. _Song lyrics_. But before he can even pick out any of the words on the page, Harry pulls it tight to his chest and shoots Louis an almost angry glare.

“Don’t look,” he says.

Louis throws his hands up. “Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

Harry bites his lip. “It’s okay.” Then, he returns to scribbling in his notebook. He’s sort of hunched over now, the notebook on his lap.

Louis contemplates Harry for a few seconds waiting for him to explain this ‘present’ business. No explanation comes. In fact, the harder Louis stares at him, the deeper Harry seems to immerse himself in his work.

Louis _does_ have some work to do- a physics assignment from last week that he’d skipped out on, but knew he’d need to complete before next Friday’s test- so he pulls out his text book, binder, and graphing calculator and lays them on the table before him. This book’s homework sets are characteristically tough and he hasn’t quite mastered the knack of this particular unit yet, so it takes a few minutes and all his focus to begin.

Harry’s lack of attention is more distracting than his intense focus, though, and Louis can’t help himself from continually looking up and checking to make sure Harry’s curls are falling the same haphazard way they were just seconds before.

They are the first time. And the second. The third time, though, which occurs after Louis’ finally finished (copying down) the first problem in his set, Harry has disappeared. Or rather, Louis realizes turning his head, Harry’s relocated to Louis’ side of the table.

He’s close enough now that Louis can’t properly judge the fall of his curls, not unless he scoots a little to the left, which he’s not going to do because smelling Harry’s curls- so fruity- and feeling them brush against his cheek is so much better than simply looking at them.  (Even though they tickle a bit.)

Louis turns toward him, brushing their shoulders together. His dick is pretty responsive, but it’s calmed down a hell of a lot since eighth grade and such a little touch shouldn’t have him thickening up in his pants. It does though, and when he takes Harry in, he’s chewing on his finger and his pupils are taking up the whole of his eyes. The effect has Louis fully hard and wondering if something is going to happen.

They’re sheltered from the view of Ms. Caroline and the other students here at the table Harry’s picked and Louis wonders if its relative privacy is why Harry had chosen it in the first place.

Harry’s breathing pretty heavily and so is Louis. The air feels thick and Louis, the older and certainly more experienced of the two of them, feels as though he should do something or say something. He definitely shouldn’t just sit there staring at Harry’s slick, bitten lips.

He looks down. His physics homework might prove useful, as a distraction or maybe a conversation topic. He sees that Harry’s notebook is lying open on the table in front of them to a disappointingly empty page.

He grabs the book and pulls it toward himself, eager to flip through it. He’s stopped when he feels Harry’s hand on his thigh, _squeezing_.

Louis looks back up at him.

“Louis,” Harry says, his voice somehow both smooth and rough like the stucco walls of Louis’ basement. It’s a beautiful sound and Louis knows it’s inevitable now. No matter what Harry does next, Louis is certainly going to cream his pants in the school library.

“Yeah,” Louis replies, embarrassed at how _his_ voice is more a squeak than a sexy rumble. It doesn’t seem to matter to Harry, though, because the other boy swallows and moves his hand up up up Louis’ thigh to close over his dick which is now fully, _pain_ fully hard.

His hand feels huge and Louis thinks for a second that it’s not fair, Harry’s puppy paws and deep grown-man voice, but then Harry’s rubbing him and Louis’ thoughts. blank. out.

“FUCK.” He doesn’t think he’s loud, but he might have been because Harry leans over, presses his lips to Louis’ ear and hisses, “Shhhhhhhh!”

Then, as he unzips Louis’ khakis, Harry says, “The other night was so hot. I jerked off like five times thinking about it.”

It’s something that Louis’d been wondering about- whether or not Harry had enjoyed himself, whether he’d thought about it later. It sounds as though Harry’s weekend had been similar to his own. Still, mostly what he wanted to know was whether or not Harry might like to do it again and whether or not he’d want to tell people.

Harry very obviously wants to do it again because his hand is squirming into Louis’ underwear so that he can hold Louis, skin against skin.

“It was so wonderful,” Harry continues. “That I wanted to give you a present.”

Louis very nearly comes then at the mere brush of Harry’s thumb across the top of his cock, but he manages to make it another ten or fifteen seconds- through three and then four strokes –before he’s shooting onto Harry’s hand and the front of his pants.

Cutting off a moan, he leans forward to lay his head down onto the cool page of his physics textbook as Harry pulls Louis through his orgasm. It’s very, very hard to be quiet. He feels as though his gasps sound like short, bursting shouts and his heart like an unevenly rasping snare drum. He counts each thump waiting for the pace to slow down and even out.

He tries to sit up, but it takes a bit of work because his damp forehead is stuck to the paper in front of him. He hears a soft tearing sound and panics that he’s actually ripped it, but when he frees himself he sees Harry pulling a sheet out of his notebook. He slides it across the table to Louis. Louis’ heart, which has just finally settled again, gives a weak flutter as he realizes that, actually, Harry’s hand on his dick might not have been the present he’d promised. _Maybe Harry has written him a song_.

Harry’s stuffing the notebook in his bag and pointedly _not_ making eye contact with Louis. His shoulders are tense and Louis wants him to sit back down. He wants to return the favor, to get his own hands on Harry’s cock, the outline of which, pressed against his pants, (no matter how hard he tries to ignore it) seems to be begging for Louis’ attention.

He waits until Harry leaves with a weak ‘Bye,’ before opening the note. It’s not a song, but the one sentence isn’t any less exciting.

_Come to the Homecoming dance._

It’s not, like, an invitation, Louis doesn’t think. Louis definitely isn’t ready for that. But Harry wants him to be there. He wants to see Louis in a suit. He wants to see Louis out on the dancefloor. Louis’ never been the type to go stag, but showing up without a date doesn’t sound so bad, not if Harry’s doing the same.

~

He’s not planning on telling his mom about his new plans to attend Homecoming, except that the ticket is _expensive_ and he’d used the last of his summer savings on an X-Men poster Liam had goaded him into buying by claiming that he didn’t think Louis even liked Cyclops that much.

(It doesn’t fit on Louis’ overdecorated bedroom walls and even if it did Louis wouldn’t put it up because The Avengers are about a thousand times better than X-Men and he doesn’t want to waste space.)

His mom has always been embarrassingly invested in his love life, but he’s going _stag_ so he doesn’t expect casually asking for the $30 he needs for the ticket will be a big deal.

He’s so wrong.

She won’t believe that he’s actually going alone. No, she’s _convinced_ he’s secretly taking a boy and won’t hear otherwise.

She insists he take an extra $30 for ‘his date’s’ ticket (which he pockets without much resistance) and even arranges for a babysitter so that they can go together to the mall to rent a suit. She gets this little put-out line on her forehead when Louis refuses to invite ‘his special someone’ over for pictures beforehand. In consolation, Louis pinky promises her that he’ll sneak some at the dance.

On Saturday, she finally lets him head over to Liam’s for pizza once she’s satisfied that his hair is properly styled. Her goodbye includes several pointed winks and a reminder that, if he decides to stay overnight somewhere, he should send her a text. In the front seat of the minivan he finds she’s left him a good luck note, a pamphlet about STIs specifically targeted to gay men, and package of deluxe condoms.

What the fuck.

He hopes he never has to look her in the eye ever again.

Also, how the hell is he supposed to hide this shit from Liam and Zayn who he’s supposed to be driving to and from the dance? _Fuck._

He texts, _oh my god mom_

Her reply is immediate, _;)you’re welcome_

He stuffs the goodies in the glove box and prays that he remembers to grab it at the end of the night so that Lottie or Fizzy don’t happen across it.

Liam’s still in his sweats when Louis arrives. His little sisters are older than Louis’ and also getting ready for the dance, so hismother doesn’t have much time to fuss over the boys. She’s too busy crying over how beautifully Ruth’s hair is curling and how grown up Nicola looks.

Liam’s parents always splurge on the best pizza in town. Tonight, they’ve bought enough for Liam and Louis, as well as the girls and their four friends. But only the boys are eating it, as there’s some giggles about fitting into dresses and ruining make-up.

Louis’ fingers are covered in the grease when he opens a text from Zayn, _told my parents the after party is at your place_

And then, _DO NOT RUIN THIS FOR ME_

The after party is not at Louis’ place. After his mom’s cooing and _condom_ giving, Louis fully intends to stay out all night, even if he has to sleep on a park bench. He cannot have her thinking he’s a failure at boys, too.

It’s fucked up, but, like, he really doesn’t want to disappoint her _again_.

He sticks his phone in front of Liam’s face to show him the text and around a particularly saucy bite asks, “The fuck?”

Liam winces and pauses his game. His mouth is set in a hard pout when he tells Louis, “Zayn and Perrie are going to do it tonight. Like, _all the way_ , for the first time.”

Louis is skeptical. “Where?”

Liam nods, as though this is an excellent question. “That parking lot off 31, at the trailhead.”

“A car. How classy of him,” Louis remarks, grabbing another piece of pizza. Before it reaches his mouth he remembers, “I’m supposed to be picking them up from the restaurant and driving them to the dance and back afterwards. Did Zayn get his parents car or something?”

Liam shrugs and starts his game again.

A few minutes of furious texting later, Louis has discovered that Zayn plans to lose his virginity in the back of Louis’ family’s minivan while Louis does who knows what the fuck elsewhere.

Louis plans to put up a fight- the twins ride to ballet in that backseat wearing tiny pink tutus- but he decides he’ll let Zayn down in person at the dance. It’s much easier to be convincing in person than through text.

~

Louis doesn’t really have a chance to confront Zayn though because no matter how obnoxious he is when he picks them up from the restaurant, Zayn and Perrie’s cute cuddle bubble remains unbroken. As far as Louis can tell they _literally_ can’t see or hear anyone but each other.

Disgusting. Louis would _never_ be like that, not with anyone.

When they reach the dance, Perrie and Zayn disappear quickly, probably to some abandoned corner of the school to make out, so Louis and Liam find themselves friendless and dateless at the entrance of the gym.

Cajoling Liam into his suit turns out to have been more work than it’s worth, not because he doesn’t look good- he looks _great_ \- but because he spends the whole evening complaining. His tie is choking him. He can’t lift his arms because the shoulders of the jacket are a tad too tight. The pants pockets are too small to fit his huge-ass wallet.

Louis knows he should have expected Liam’s over-the-top misery. He’s pretty sureLiam is only coming because Louis begged him, so Louis makes it his top priority to convince a girl to slow dance with him.

Danielle was grounded for six weeks after their last party with the liquor. She is neither at the dance nor has she spoken to any of the boys since.

This means Louis needs to be creative in his search- except that said search gets derailed quickly because no matter how hard he tries to play it cool, Louis’ _actual_ top priority is searching the crowd for Harry.

It’s not hard to find him already shaking it out on the dance floor. His blue suit fits him perfectly and, maybe Louis’ imagining things, but his curls look especially luscious in the glow of the black light.

He’s also surrounded by girls and wearing _three_ boutonnieres. They’re doing some stupid swimming motion that does not match the Ke$ha track that’s booming through the gym. Still, Louis thinks Harry looks really fucking hot.

“I don’t know what she sees in that asshole,” Liam says. Reluctantly, Louis tears his gaze off of Harry to look at Liam.

“What?” Louis follows Liam’s line of vision, but can’t quite figure out who Liam’s looking at. He’s focused on the tight crowd of popular kids grinding up close to the DJ and speakers.

Liam grabs his elbow and starts to drag him toward the snack table. There’s Mountain Dew and it’s shaping up to be a long night, so he doesn’t protest.

Once they’ve grabbed snacks, settled at a table, and are licking Cheeto crumbs off their fingers, Liam says, “I asked her to come with me _twice_ before he did _and_ I helped her with her Algebra 2 homework in study hall. Joe’s a fucking idiot douchebag.”

 _Ahh._ Louis realizes that they are talking about the ever-elusive Sophia Smith. Louis is not surprised that she has turned Liam down. Liam’s pretty terrible at math. But Louis also wouldn’t be surprised if she comes begging back to Liam in a few years after he’s created some kick-ass iPhone app that makes him millions.

He does not say this, though, because Liam’s hopes are sensitive, easily raised and just as easily smashed. Instead he says, “He _is_ co _-_ captain of the football team _and_ on Homecoming court. Maybe she liked those things.”

Liam kicks Louis and pulls out his phone, leaving Louis to return to his covert Harry-watching.

They’ve been at the dance for about twenty minutes and Louis has moved on to mentally critiquing all the football players’ dancing skills when cool hands cover his eyes and a mouth pressed wet to his ear murmurs, “Heyyy, guess who?”

It’s Harry, obviously. He’s pitched his voice high in an attempt to disguise it, but Louis’ been more than a little obsessed with that voice for the last few weeks _._

Still, he plays along, “Cinderella, late for the ball?”

“Nooooo,” Harry replies, voice dropping. The movement of his lips sends a shiver down Louis’ spine and he’s glad he’s sitting at a table. It shouldn’t be physically possible to get hard that fast.

Louis peels Harry’s fingers off his face and pulls out a chair for him. “Hiya, Curly.”

Harry dimples and sits, scooching his chair much closer to Louis than is strictly necessary. “You came!”

Louis nods. “Only to mock your terrible moves. What was that out there, Styles?”

Harry grins as though Louis has bestowed him a surprising and wonderful compliment. “Come dance with us,” he says.

Louis reaches out to straighten the blue carnation on his right lapel. “I don’t know. It might be a little too wild out there for someone as dignified as I am.”

Harry looks down at Louis’ hands which, without his permission, continue to fuss with the front of Harry’s suit. “Do you like my bowtie?”

Louis flicks it and then moves down to flick each of Harry’s four nipples as well. Harry’s clearly getting a little stuck up with all those girls hanging off him out there and needs to be taken down a peg.

Louis tells him, “It’s a lovely bowtie, Harold.” Louis wants it to even come out dry and critical, but it doesn’t and Louis knows he’s smiling fondly. He thanks God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost that Liam is currently distracted playing some dumb game on his phone.

Harry stands up and tugs Louis’ jacket sleeve, “Come on. Dance with me.”  

Louis glances at Liam and decides he’s sufficiently entertained, so he allows himself to be dragged up and over to Harry’s friends. They’re currently engaged in some sort of shimmying battle.

Louis’ _really_ not into girls, but their jiggling tits are weirdly fascinating.

“I can’t do it,” Harry moans and Louis looks over to see him shaking his shoulders awkwardly.

Louis rolls his eyes and loosens his own shoulders. “This is how you do it,” he shouts over the music and proceeds to properly shimmy.

Harry’s friends screech excitedly, focusing their attention on Louis. The one closest to Louis stops dancing and pouts. “You’re better than I am.”

Louis waggles his eyebrows, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Hey,” Harry calls. “I think I’ve got it down.”

He hasn’t, not at all, but looks happier, _prettier_ , than Louis’ ever seen him- cheeks pink, a drop of sweat trickling down at his temple and bright eyes. Louis wants to kiss him. And then he wants to pull him close so that they’re dancing pressed up against each other, like the many of the other couples around them.

He doesn’t dare. Instead, he stays planted a few feet away, dancing, wild and relaxed, coaxing laugh after laugh out of Harry.

He tries not to think about how everyone can see him, how people might think how _gay_ it is that he _loves_ to dance or whatever. It’s surprisingly easy to forget with Harry’s attention and his friends’ happy encouragement.

Louis can’t have been out more than five or six songs before he feels a tap on his shoulder. When he turns, he sees that it’s Zayn and he’s frowning.

Louis stops dancing. “What’s up?”

“We’re ready to go. Perrie has a midnight curfew.” He’s shifting from foot to foot, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Louis is still puzzled as to why they’re actually _at_ the dance at all. He would have thought they’d want to skip straight to the ‘afterparty.’

He finds the big clock on the wall. It reads 9:30.

Louis frowns. “We just got here.”

“An hour ago!” Zayn looks around, taking in the dancing circle of girls and Harry. “Since when do you dance, anyway? Liam’s ready to go, too. He’s given up on Sophia noticing him in his suit. I think he’s walked past her about thirty times and- surprise- she hasn’t looked, not once.”

Harry’s stopped dancing and is moving closer. Louis doesn’t want it to look to Zayn like he wants to stay with Harry, but he really, _really_ wants to stay with Harry.

“Another half hour?” He asks Zayn.

Zayn sighs and crosses his arms. He looks away and Louis follows his gaze to where both Liam and Perrie sit on the bleachers with their phones out. They look bored as hell.

“Are you leaving? So soon?” Harry sounds upset and that shouldn’t make Louis happy, but it does. Louis insides flutter when Harry grabs his wrist and squeezes. “Come on, Lou, stay.”

“Look,” Louis says to Zayn, “I can’t go home now, especially if you want to keep my car, and Liam’s sisters are bringing their friends back to his, so I don’t really want to hang out there.”

“You can come home with me,” Harry volunteers. “Zayn can take your car and my mom can take you to your house or, like, mine.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. A hopeful eyebrow.

Louis looks at Harry. The plan he’s suggested is kind of perfect and his eyes seem so huge and so lovely as they silently plead with Louis to take him up on it. Louis’ not sure how he’ll get the van back from Zayn, but they don’t live too far apart, so he’s sure they can work it out later.

“Okay,” Louis says. Zayn lets out a breath and smiles. He’s so beautiful. Perrie is very lucky.

“Thanks,” Zayn says, turning to go, “We’ll drop Payno off, first.”

“There’s condoms in the glove compartment,” Louis shouts after him. Zayn flicks him off in response, but Louis would bet a $100 that the box will have disappeared tomorrow.  

When he turns back, Harry is watching him, his eyes impossibly wider still. “Condoms?” He sounds scandalized and maybe, like, _intrigued_.

Louis laughs. Heart racing, he adds, “My mom gave them to me. She thought I was going to get some tonight.”

Harry licks his lips. “Are you planning on it?”

Louis has to look away. “Well, not now that Zayn’s got my rubbers.”

“Oh,” Harry replies. It’s a soft noise, but Louis hears it and it makes Louis’ stomach flip.

A slow song begins and one of the girls tugs on Harry’s arm with a, “Me first.”

Harry gestures to three of the girls in the circle. “No one asked them to the dance, so I asked all of them. I get a flower and dance from each of them.” He waggles his eyebrows as if to suggest something much, much dirtier than a ‘dance’ is going to take place.

Louis’ pretty sure that it isn’t. He’s _pretty_ sure that Harry had wanted _Louis_ to invite _him_ to the dance.  Doesn’t mean he isn’t jealous though. He watches Harry dance and tries (and fails) to refrain from scowling. Harry’s being super playful with the girl. Her pink skirt fans out prettily around her as she twirls and whirls circles around Harry.

Louis notes with unhappy satisfaction that Harry attempts to get her to twirl him several times, but each time his effort it rebuffed or ignored.

Louis would twirl Harry.

He tires of watching after a minute or two- it’s giving him a bit of a headache actually- and makes his way over to grab another cup of Mountain Dew, which he chugs down in several large gulps.

Beyoncé comes on just as he’s tossing his paper cup in the trash. With sugar rushing through his veins and bass thrumming through his bones, he re-approaches Harry and his friends.

He catches Harry’s eye- which is easy, seeing as Harry appears to be searching the crowd, maybe even looking for Louis- and motions tossing out a fish line. With a bit of over the top flailing and wide-eyed surprise, Harry pretends to be caught by it. Then, slowly and smirking, Louis turns his fist reeling Harry in. Harry lets himself be tugged by the imaginary string and comes closer and closer until he’s dancing right in front of Louis.

Sweat glistens on his forehead and his eyes are shining, but Louis can’t look away from his lips which are pink and wet and probably a little magnetic.

“Did you miss me?” Louis asks him in a desperate attempt to distract himself from thoughts of kissing. Because, like, oh my god, does he ever want to _kiss_ Harry. He doesn’t think he’s _ever_ felt like this before- like he might pass out if he can’t. just. touch.

Harry is clearly feeling silly and overconfident (as he probably should, all things considered), because he shrugs and shakes his head. “You don’t have anything Cara doesn’t.”

This shouldn’t piss Louis off – _it shouldn’t._ It’s clearly a joke. Obviously, he _does_ have something Cara doesn’t, something that Harry more than probably wants. But it grates at him in a new way, suddenly, being gay and feeling as if he’s got to keep it a secret. He realizes he does not want to _hide_ whatever is between him and Harry.

Or maybe he does- it’s so fragile and new right now- but he wishes he didn’t _have_ to hide.  Because Harry’s obviously _amazing-_ all these girls can see it- and Harry wants to get off, not with them, but with _Louis_. And Louis wants to kiss Harry here, in front of everyone, to _show_ them.

Someone crashes into him from behind, pushing him even closer to Harry. Louis realizes he’d been standing still right in the middle of the dancefloor staring at Harry’s smiling face, while thinking about _kissing him_ and, like, _coming out_.

He needs to pee. Or something.

“I’ve got to go use the toilet,” he says, backing away from Harry who nods and shoves him in the direction of the bathroom.

He takes his time, giving his dick an extra shake or two and counting to thirty while he lathers his hands. He’s carefully tucked away all his inappropriate thoughts, promising to reexamine them when he isn’t surrounded by people, when his mind isn’t being addled by strobe lights and wild curls.

Harry is fixing his hair in the dark window of the classroom across from the bathroom when Louis exits and they meet eyes in the glass.

The worry lines on Harry’s face disappear as he breaks into a grin. “I have something to show you,” he says.

Louis tilts his head to the side, but follows Harry back into the bathroom. They’re standing in front of the sinks facing each other and Louis gets it. They’ve been dancing around each other all night, literally. And now, they’re going to make out, maybe even get each other off.

He leans forward and lets his lips touch Harry’s. The kiss stays soft at first and Louis realizes it’s only the third time they’ve actually kissed. It’s nice, sweet even, the way their breath mingles and the sensation tugs open something inside him, something hungry.

He realizes that he’s clutching at the lapels of Harry’s jacket and that he wants to feel more, feel Harry’s skin and Harry’s hair.  He lets his fingers slide up across Harry’s neck and back into his curls. The motion pulls them tighter together and Louis feels Harry’s tongue poking tentatively at the seam of his lips.

He opens and their tongues meet and press past each other.  Louis concentrates on the kiss, uses it to explore, to learn the feel of Harry’s mouth inside and out. It’s all smooth and new and exciting and he can feel his dick hardening and, oh my god, he _needs_ to know if Harry’s big boner is right there with him.  He arches his hips forward and Harry moans.

“Oh, crap. Louis. Oh, no. Harry. Wow. Jeez.”

The door to the bathroom has swung open and someone’s standing there, watching them. Someone has seen Louis and Harry making out. Someone who _recognizes_ Louis.

He whirls, letting go of Harry and wiping his lips in the same movement, and hisses out a breath. It’s Liam. Louis wishes there was a way to cover up his erection because it’s tenting his dress pants obscenely and _his childhood best friend_ is looking right at it.

It’s not a big deal, Louis tells himself. At least, it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

Like, Liam is less cool than Louis or Harry (being neither smart nor athletic nor popular) and he and Louis go way back. Their mothers are friends and Liam’s been trying to get Louis to love him and pay attention to him since they were in diapers. There’s no way he’s going to let this get out.

Unless, of course, surprise gets the better of him. And he does look surprised. His eyes are wide and his mouth is open.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home with Zayn.” Louis knows he sounds hostile and he knows he should be trying for placating instead. He just. He’s not sure what to do.

“I was going to, like… I mean, my sisters will drive- just-“ Several long seconds too late, Liam covers his eyes with his hand and says, “This is the gayest thing I have ever seen.”

Harry laughs, loud and manic, as though Liam has just made a hilarious joke, and while Louis can recognize the humor, he can also tell that Liam hasn’t meant his words to be funny.

“Liam,” Louis says. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Liam looks back and forth between him and Harry and frowns. He shakes his head as if to clear it. “What?!”

Louis huffs out a breath. “I said-“

“Lou,” Harry cuts him off. “Let’s go back to the gym.”

Louis turns to look at Harry. He takes in his swollen lips and mussed hair and _knows_ that people will _know_ that Harry’s been hooking up with someone. They might even guess that he’s been with Louis.

Louis’ stomach drops. He looks at Liam who’s still there, stunned and frozen, and he realizes that this is it. He’s really gone and fucked everything up now.

He swallows. Without looking at Harry, he says, “I don’t really feel like dancing anymore.”

Harry grabs his elbow and physically turns Louis toward him. He’s pouting. “Come on. It’s cool. Liam’s cool.”

Liam’s at the urinal now and he doesn’t confirm what Harry’s said, that he’s cool with it, and Louis’ stomach sinks lower. He thinks he might barf.

“I don’t feel well. Maybe I’ll come out later. I think I want to go out into the parking lot and get some fresh air.”

“I could go with you.” Harry keeps looking at Louis, his gaze remaining firm even as his eyes go soft and fill with tears. Looking back at him is _painful_ , and Louis finds himself leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Harry’s lips.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I just need some space to think.”

Harry nods and follows Liam out of the bathroom. He’s left the water running in the sink and when Louis goes to turn it off he catches sight of himself in the mirror. He looks like _he’s_ about to cry.

He doesn’t.

~

Later, when he’s calmed a bit, Louis lays on his back on the bench just outside the gym. He watches couples and friends and even some not-quite-openly hostile frenemies leave the dance and disperse into the night.

Nobody says a word to him. Nobody even notices him. It’s as though the fact that Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been caught making out in the bathroom isn’t even a big thing.

They don’t know, of course. Word doesn’t spread that fast and, even if it did, Liam’s not the type to rat them out. At least, Louis doesn’t think he is.

And, well, even if he was, like, _whatever_. So, Louis’ gay. So, he wants to suck Harry Style’s dick. That affects literally no one but him and Harry. Actually, the more he thinks about it, the stupider it seems that it’s some big secret.

So, like, maybe he shouldn’t let it be.  

The problem is that he has no idea how to stop hiding without making a big deal out it. And he definitely _does not_ want to make a big deal out of it. The idea of making this part of himself known publically feels weird. People don’t just go around announcing their sexual orientation.

The music has stops and a large mass begins exiting the gym, spilling out into the hallway, buzzing loudly with the excitement from the last Pitbull track. Louis hears Harry’s laughter. It’s mingling with the voices of girls they were dancing with earlier and Louis wonders if Harry’s mom is giving each of them a ride home, too. He hopes not. He’s _really_ not in the mood to share Harry’s attention.

He closes his eyes and counts to ten.

When Harry taps him on the shoulder, none of the girls are in sight. Thank God.

They’re quiet as they make their way to car where Harry’s mom waits for them. She gets out when she catches sight of Louis. Reaching out, she straightens Harry’s bowtie and asks, “Looks like you had a good time, sweetie. Who’s this?”

Harry bats her hand away and glowers a little. “This is _Louis._ I’ve told you about him.”

She looks Louis up and down. “Ah, _Louis_ , nice to finally meet you. I understand you and Harry have been hanging out a lot lately.”

Louis swallows. Yeah, he’s definitely the senior friend she wishes her son didn’t have. _Great. Excellent._ He’s such a fuck up with everything else.  Of course his not maybe-but-not-actually-but-kind-of-sort-of boyfriend’s mom disapproves of him.

She turns to Harry. “I already told you no afterparty. I didn’t let Gemma go to those until she was a senior. _And_ you’re lucky I let you come to the dance at all after what happened at the Payne’s.”

Louis shifts from foot to foot and pulls out his phone. He doesn’t want to interrupt Zayn’s sexcapades, but he also doesn’t think this woman is ready to give him a ride home.

“No, _mom,_ it’s not an afterparty. It’s just Louis.” Harry pleads. “His friends ditched him and he needs a ride.”

She relaxes a little and seems to take Louis in again, with a softer expression this time. His suit is probably wrinkled, his tie is coming loose, and he’d tripped on an untied shoelace walking over. He thinks she sees, now, that he’s a bit of a mess- in a pitiful kind of way.

“What about your date? Where’s she?”

“I, um-“ Louis looks at Harry who is staring wide-eyed at his mom and shaking his head as though he cannot believe she would ask such a question. “I didn’t… I showed up by myself.”  

She smiles at this. “Sounds easier to manage than having _three_ dates.” Then, over Harry’s groan, she says, “Well, get in, boys. Louis where do you live?”

Harry answers for him, hopping into the backseat beside Louis. “He’s coming home with us.”

Harry’s mom turns to look at them while she’s shifting gears. “Where does your mom think you are?”

Louis scratches his head. His mom thinks he’s exactly where he is, _with_ _a boy._ He’s not ready for her to know which boy, so he says, “She knows I’m going to be out with friends all night.”

“Let me call her,” Harry’s mom suggests.

Louis pulls out his phone. “I’ll do it.”

“Uh, uh. I need to hear her say it’s okay.  I know I’d want the same for Harry.”

He hands over the phone, resigning himself to the fact that his mom is going to be the most insufferable _pest_ once she knows _who_ Louis’ in love with- or rather, like, _crushing_ on.

~

Louis knows Harry has an older sister who graduated last year and that his mom’s name is ‘Cox’ not ‘Styles’ and that Harry doesn’t talk about his father. But otherwise, Harry’s family is a mystery. Louis’d like to poke around his house and see if he can puzzle it all together looking through family pictures and the like.

He’s stepping into what seems to be the living room to have a look when Harry grabs his wrist and drags him toward the staircase. As they hustle up, presumably toward Harry’s room, Harry’s mom calls out, “Harry, dear, leave the door open. You know the rules.”

Louis looks at Harry curiously. He shrugs, “Gemma got caught ‘canoodling’ with her boyfriends _a lot_.”

Louis wonders if that means Harry’s out to his mom (probably) and whether the door open rule applies to _all_ his friends or whether it’s just for older boys that Harry has a crush on or who seem, like, gay, or whatever. Like, he wonders if Harry has to keep the door open when Niall comes over. Bitterly, he thinks, _probably not._

Harry throws himself back onto his tiny twin bed and pats the space beside him. Louis shucks off his jacket and joins Harry. He rolls so that they’re on their sides facing each other. Harry’s eyes flutter shut and his lips pucker, just barely. Louis meets them with his own.

The kiss doesn’t stay chaste for long. Harry slides a leg between Louis’ and a hand down his chest to cover his crotch. Louis flails backwards and tumbles onto the floor.

Harry peers over the bed. “Are you okay?”

Louis tries to send him a peeved look. The groping is not okay; _Harry’s door is open_. “Your mom could walk in, Harry, you perv.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “She’s not going to. She never does.”

Louis hoists himself back up and onto the bed. He lies down on his back this time and does not look at Harry. “You don’t know that. I can tell she’s suspicious of me and I’m not really ready to be walked in on _again_ tonight.”

Harry’s quiet for a moment, then he curls closer to Louis and says, “I’m sorry about earlier, about Liam.”

“No, don’t be. You were right; Liam’s cool. It’s alright that he knows. I trust him to be decent about it.”

Louis reaches over to finger Harry’s rainbow bracelet. The rest of his bracelets have disappeared, but he’s kept this one on the whole night even though it definitely doesn’t go with his suit. “Where did you get this?”

Harry bites his lip and then smiles, watching Louis twist and twist and twist it. “Gemma made it for me.”

Louis nods, moving so that his fringe brushes Harry’s neck. Harry giggles. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Harry says. It comes out funny, hesitating and high pitched. Harry normally speaks slowly, but it’s unusual for him to be _so_ awkward and for his voice crack. Louis pushes himself up to look into Harry’s face.

Harry’s still smiling, but he’s closed his eyes. “So, like, she made it for me right after I first came out to her.”

Louis collapses into Harry’s chest, lips brushing the collar of Harry’s shirt when he asks, “Really?” and then, “You came out to her?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods and this time it’s his curls that tickle Louis. Louis doesn’t laugh, though. He wants to hear more, so he’s glad when Harry continues unprompted. “This summer. She has a matching bracelet, too, that she made. She doesn’t wear it as often. She’s much more concerned about outfits and color schemes, you know.”

“I want one,” Louis says. He doesn’t really think through the implication of it. That, for Harry at least, it’s a sign of being, like, somewhat _out._ Or at least he tries not to think about that implication.

Harry breaths out a soft laugh and Louis feels it hot against his temple. “I can make them, too. I’ll make you one. “

Louis nuzzles closer. He wants Harry to make him a bracelet and then he wants Harry to slip it on his wrist and press good luck kisses on it. But, almost as much, Louis wants his own sisters to know. He wants his own sisters to make matching rainbow bracelets and to wear them, for him.

It’s fine, though. Everything’s fine and he has a plan- or he _had_ a plan- and that plan didn’t include coming out, now. The only thing that’s changed since he’d crafted the plan this summer is _Harry_.

Harry with his perfectly ordered homework notebook and his bevvy of girlfriends. Harry with his terrible dancing and his fearless sex-crazed dick grabbing. Harry with his rainbow bracelet and his mom and sister who both _know._

For some reason, adding _Harry_ to the carefully balanced equation of Louis’ life and future changes _everything._

Louis contemplates telling Harry all this. His heart practically aches with the desire to get it all off his chest- to find a sounding board, someone who’ll help work out _exactly_ he feels and what _exactly_ he should do.

The problem with telling Harry is that Louis is still in the deciding process _._ He doesn’t know whether he actually does want to change his plan. And he thinks Harry would be excited, encouraging- he’d probably really, really want Louis to do it- like big time. It seems cruel to raise Harry’s hopes. And it would be difficult for Louis to dash them. He’s not sure he could say ‘no’ to Harry, even if doing so would be the best thing for him.  

He’s got _so_ much on his plate right now, what with fucking up soccer and Quiz Bowl. He’s got to figure out how to turn his life around before his college applications are due. Either that or win the lottery.

 _Fuck_. His life sucks. Everything sucks. He presses his cheek right up against Harry’s. It’s smooth and so, so warm.

Harry’s hands are busy untucking Louis dress shirt and smoothing it down the top of his ass. The sensation feels good, too good for how shitty he feels inside.

“I’m a fuck up, Harry,” he says.

Harry makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat.

“Because I don’t have an ounce self-control, I’m out of Quiz Bowl and Soccer. I was supposed be in Honors Society- I was supposed to be _President_ of Honors Society if possible- but now I’ll never even make it in. Like, bye bye scholarships. Bye bye college.”

Snaking a hand up Louis’ shirt to rub circles against his bare back, Harry replies, “I think that’s a bit over-the-top, Lou. You’re one of the best students in the school. You’re definitely going to college.”

Louis shifts his thighs and feels that Harry’s still sporting a very hopeful erection. Like, _really?_ Louis sighs and moves back from him a bit. “My mom can’t afford to send me to school. The only way I’ll be able to go is to do everything perfectly and get all the scholarships and now I’ve really, really fucked it up.”

“I’m sure you haven’t.” Harry moves forward, trying to close the space between them, but Louis turns to flop on his stomach.

Into his folded arms, Louis mutters, “I have, though.”

Louis can practically hear Harry chewing his lip, deep in thought. He doesn’t say anything more, though. Instead, he moves to straddle Louis’ ass.  His boner presses into Louis, and Louis is about to protest, to tell Harry that he’s _really_ really not in the mood, but then Harry’s hands find his shoulders and dig in, kneading and rolling.

It feels fantastic and Louis lets him continue until his mother knocks at the cracked door announcing that it’s time for bed and that she’s made up the couch in the living room for Louis.

He and Harry brush their teeth side by side in Harry’s bathroom and then Harry walks him downstairs to the his makeshift bed, tucking him in with a minty kiss.

~

Louis’ mom picks him up early in the morning, before Harry’s even awake. She has to work an 8am shift and she’s livid about him leaving the car with Zayn whose driving _she does not trust._

However, as soon as she finishes her lecture about responsible uses of the _family_ minivan, she turns to beam at him. They’re pulling onto their street, _thank god_ , because Louis knows that smile.

“So, _Harry Styles_ , huh?”

He groans. “Mom, it’s not, like, a _thing_.”

She turns into the driveway and puts the car in park to let him out. “I sure hope you’d introduce him to me before it became ‘a thing.’”

Louis opens the door and dives out. Over his shoulder he calls, “Love you, mom. See you later.”

~

If his conversation with his mom was _a little_ awkward, Louis’ conversation with Zayn is _a lot_ awkward. It could win awards for awkwardness.

It doesn’t happen until much later in the day, after Louis’ fed his sisters spaghettios (with hotdogs because he’s feeling creative) for lunch, when Zayn knocks on his door.

He hadn’t texted first, so Louis is surprised to see him on his front porch step. He looks _terrible_ , like he hasn’t slept in weeks which, well, Louis watched him sleep through Calc just two days ago, so something awful must have happened in the meantime.

“What’s up?” Louis asks, throwing open the door. “I might have some left over lunch, if you want.”

Zayn shakes his head and doesn’t say anything so the two of them just stand there for a few seconds in the foyer, looking at each other.

“You wanna play GTA? Or maybe SuperMario? Or work on that comic series, you know the one where I’m the hottest Superhero ever to kick-ass and blow shit up?”

Zayn nods and rolls his shoulders. He’s wearing a backpack, which is, like, _weird_. They’ve never done homework together, at least not Louis’ house. Zayn always does all his homework at home on his dining room table under the watchful eye of his mother. 

Zayn’s also _not meeting Louis’ eyes_.

It’s painful, whatever’s between them, and Louis decides that the absolute best strategy is probably to pretend as though everything’s totally normal, so he bounds up the stairs and waits in his room as Zayn slowly follows.

Zayn closes the door behind him and Louis thinks about how Harry’s mom had made them leave the door open. He’s about to say something to Zayn about it, when he remembers that, actually, he and Zayn haven’t really talked about him and Harry and this, the no-canoodling door thing, is kind of part of the reason why.

Louis chats as he sets up the Wii, first apologizing for his mother taking the car back so early and for not wanting to leave the dance on time, and then shit-talking about the game he’s setting up and, finally, because he’s practically dying of curiosity, he asks about how things went for Zayn, ‘after the dance.’

Zayn’s quiet, though he makes appropriate ‘hmm’ing noises on occasions. When he doesn’t answer Louis pointed inquiries about _losing his virginity_ , Louis turns away from the TV to look at him. He’s frowning and fiddling with the zipper on his bag.

He meets Louis’ eyes, opens his mouth and then shakes his head.

Something is very, very wrong. Zayn is never this weird or anxious. Like, Zayn usually reacts to nerves by being overly, mega-chill. It’s partly why he and Louis do so well together; they balance each other out. Louis does not like tense, meaningfully quiet, and visibly upset Zayn.

“Did you break up with Perrie?”

Zayn drops his bag and lays back on the bed. “No, me and Perrie are cool. Didn’t really get around to, like, _doing it_ last night, though.”

“Oh what, did she chicken out? Did you?” Louis’ a little bit horrified on Zayn’s behalf. And also a little bit peeved that he had to go through all that drama over the minivan for apparently _no reason at all_.

Zayn sighs. “No, nothing like that.”

He doesn’t elaborate and Louis realizes that if he’s going to snap Zayn out of his reticence, he’s going to need help.

“I’m going to grab us a couple Mountain Dews,” he announces.

Zayn kicks the bed. “Okay.”

Louis tries to be quick, but he’s delayed twice on his way back up, once by Lottie begging him to drive her to the store for this new shade of nail polish that she really, really needs right now and once by the twins who are fighting over which princess movie to put on the television. (Louis laughs in Lottie’s face and puts on Cars for the girls.)

When he returns upstairs somehow now missing the Mountain Dew he’d left for in the first place, Zayn is gone. In his place on Louis’ bed is the unopened box of condoms and the safe gay sex pamphlet that Louis’ mom had left in the minivan the night before.

 _Fuck_.

~

So far, Louis’ been pretty successful at avoiding his friends, Zayn and Liam and _holyshit_ Perrie, who also probably knows. It’s only noon on Monday, so it’s not an amazing accomplishment, but it’s something and it’s taken work. He’d packed a lunch for the first time since the school year started and he’s munching on his PB&J across from Harry at their usual table in the library.

Harry’s got an apple in one hand, while the other holds open his chemistry lab book, finger marking a problem. Louis can tell that he's got approximately 12 percent of his attention focused on it.  
  
That's because he seems to be trying to surreptitiously study Louis. He’s failing to be subtle, though- even Liam would be able to tell where Harry's eyes are focused without even having to look up from his video game- and, on top of Harry’s borderline open stare, Louis is studying him right back.  
  
Saturday night, what with all the wet eyes (not tears- Louis hasn't cried since the day he was born) and the laying sort of on top of each other (not cuddling- they're not a boy and girl in some dumb high school rom com) and the whispered conversation (not 'sweet nothings'- they're not each other's boyfriends), well, Saturday night was weird. Good weird, but still weird.

  
Louis passes Harry a note, _what????_  
  
Harry reads it and pouts. He doesn't answer, and refocuses on his chemistry, kind of. Like, he stops looking at Louis, but Louis, not to be cocky or anything, knows that Harry is still thinking about him.  
  
He’s gratified to be proven right when, less than minute later, Harry writes, _I have an idea to help with the thing_ He punctuates the statement with a smiley face and his own expression is shy as he watches Louis read. Louis has no idea what he’s referring to.  
  
 _?????_  
  
Harry pulls the note close and contemplates his next words. Louis has no idea what’s got him so cautious talking to Louis. He’s certainly not cautious about doing _other_ things with Louis. Louis is thinking about getting caught making out by Liam and about Harry’s mom making them leave the door open and then about _Zayn_ leaving that pamphlet when he sees that Harry has written, _the college thing_

  
Louis snorts. And then his heart clenches because Harry’s obviously spent time thinking about _Louis’_ problems. With a sigh, Louis says, “Harry. I’m not, like, looking for help. I’ve fucked it up and, if there’s a way to fix it, _I’ve_ got to do it, so like, you don’t have to worry. You can leave it."  
  
Harry’s brows furrow giving him the appearance of an angry kitten. He tugs the note back and begins to scribble, all the while chewing his lip vigorously.

The motion reminds Louis of kissing him and so he looks away. Ms. Caroline is watching them intently. Louis thinks she might want to help Louis, too. It seems as though Louis’ epic failures were a topic of discussion at the latest staff meeting because everyone seems to know. It’s stupid. Louis doesn’t need his teachers’ pity. He doesn’t need Harry’s pity.

Honestly, if they’re really so worried, maybe they should help him financially, like by finding a rich old dude to pay for his college or starting a fundraising campaign on twitter.

  
When Harry slides the paper back across the table, his fingers cover the words till the last minute. _Actually it's a thing you could help me with. A new club._  
  
Louis sits back in his chair and rolls his eyes. Harry does not need a new club. He has golf and tennis and baking club and junior national honors society. Louis thinks he'll probably make lead in the spring musical as well. Harry has this high school thing totally under control.  
  
So instead of responding to Harry's comment, he writes, _dressing up for Halloween?_  
  
Harry reads the question and grins, full force, dimples out. He nods and writes, _i love dressing up_  
  
So does Louis, it's one of the parts he likes best about musical theater- putting on an costume and a character, pretending to be something he isn't, it's sort of freeing because he's ready right now so so ready to be someone else.  
  
Louis smiles back at him, as happy to have discovered this new shared interest as he is about having distracted Harry from his pity.  
  
Reaching across the table to pick up Harry’s green highlighter, Louis writes, _I'm going as the hulk_.

The words are almost too bright to read, but whatever.

  
In plain blue pen, Harry replies, _he's green?_  
  
Louis gives Harry a disappointed frown, but he's not disappointed. Harry’s lack of knowledge about superheroes is an _opportunity_. Louis’ wonders if there’s a chill way to convince the other boys that next week’s film should be The Hulk, for Harry's benefit.  
  
Harry returns to his chem homework, really digging into it for the first time since Louis sat down, and Louis begins to compose a text to Zayn about the Hulk. Just before he presses send, he remembers that he’s avoiding Zayn. And that Zayn’s probably avoiding him, as well.

It isn't until he's sitting bored in AP Lit that he realizes Harry hadn't shared his own Halloween costume plans. He's probably going to dress as something terrible and clich _é,_ like a ghost.

  
~  
  
Louis is too old to Trick-or-Treat, but his sisters are not and so he very, _very_ graciously volunteers to take out the twins. His graciousness and self-sacrifice has everything to do wanting to save his mother the hassle and very little to do with the extra candy he’s usually able to collect along the way.  
  
Also, he likes spending time with the twins and he likes the Halloween atmosphere: festive, sugar-infused, and just slightly spooky. All this is to say, going out is not a chore. Or least it doesn't seem like it will be a chore until three of the twin’s friends from school show up twenty minutes before they’re due to leave and his mother admits that she had offered that Louis would go around with them while she and the moms shared a glass of wine.  
  
He's about to protest but then he sees her blowing dust off a bottle of champagne and commenting to the other mothers about how long it's been since she's had a night with girlfriends.  
  
One of other ladies, who’s wearing a little too much perfume, comments about how big Louis is and how handsome he's become. She leers a little and it's _so_ not attractive, although he can't help but be a little flattered by her interest. As the girls put the final touches on their costumes, tucking bows into their hair and drawing whiskers on their faces, the woman asks Louis about school and about his friends. She’s particularly interested in why he's not out having fun like most eighteen year olds would be.  
  
He explains that his friends are getting together for a party tomorrow- it’s not a lie, he knows they _are_ , even if Louis isn’t planning on going- but she presses: _why hasn't he invited a friend to come with him tonight, then?_ At this moment, his own conniving mother jumps in, asking, ‘Yes, why, Louis, didn’t you invite Harry along?”  
  
“Harry? Anne Cox’s boy?” Another mother asks before explaining that Harry's mom was in her Pilates class and how she seems like such a nice woman. This has the first woman volunteering that she has Anne’s number from a field trip they co-chaperoned last spring.  


It all happens fast and completely without Louis’ input, but all of a sudden Harry and his mother are heading over. The other mothers are apparently very glad that Louis will have a buddy with him, as Harry will be another pair of eyes and hands keeping the little girls safe while the mothers sip champagne and gossip about celebrities and teachers and coworkers.  
  
Louis isn’t wearing his Hulk costume tonight. It’s too much work for how little anyone present would appreciate it. Actually, he’s probably not going to wear it at all now that he has no friends. He’d planned to wear it to the party, but it’s at Perrie’s and Perrie’s been avoiding him just as openly as Zayn.

Tonight he’s just got a Spiderman mask and he makes sure to put it on before opening the door for Harry and his mother. He kind of ( _really)_ wants to startle them.  
  
When Louis sees Harry on his front porch, licking his lips and smiling at his mom, the soft dusk light practically glowing around him, he goes for it, tackling him to ground.

Cackling, he shouts, “I’ll capture you in my web and eat you up.”

Harry lets out a shout of laughter and makes a show of trying to struggle away (but Louis can tell his heart isn’t actually in it.)

In retrospect, when he thinks about just how many moms were looking on, the whole episode is super embarrassing, but it allows him to let his hands roam wildly all over Harry’s shoulders and back (and, even, for a short ( _too short)_ moment, ass) and it leaves Harry giggling and clinging to him. So the judgy glare he receives from his mother is totally worth it. In fact, her disapproval doesn't faze him at all. At this point he's doing a much better job at seducing boys than she is so she can drown her manners in champagne for all he cares.  
  
Harry doesn't have much of a costume either. He’s only brought pink kitten ears (that, unlike Louis, he doesn't have the younger sisters to justify owning). The twins and their friends are delighted by them and insist on using sparkly lipstick to draw matching pink whiskers on Harry’s nose and cheeks.

As Phoebe sits in Harry’s lap and painstakingly paints on his catface, Daisy plucks at his bracelets and asks him all kinds of questions- his favorite color, his favorite food, his best friend and on and on. They find him a princess pillowcase to collect candy in and hang off his arms, fighting about who gets to stand closest to him as they walk out the door.  
  
Watching his sisters latch onto Harry makes Louis feel warm inside, more deeply connected to Harry than ever. It's an intimate feeling, similar to how he'd felt three nights earlier, when they’d held each other close on Harry’s bed.  
  
But it also makes him weirdly irritated. He wants Harry to be beaming at him, not the twins, and he wants Harry to walk beside him, not the twins, so that the back of Harry's hand could brush against the back of his hand not quite accidentally.  
  
They get a few funny looks, or rather Harry does. The old lady down the block and the army mom three blocks south frown at the High School boy all done up in pink, but as soon as Harry's dimples pop out, the critical lines on their foreheads fall away and they’re offering him more candy than Louis would know what to do with.  
  
Much later, when the girls are in bed and Louis’ mom has plied Anne with enough alcohol that she’s considering whether to call her boyfriend to pick them up or to stay the night, Louis and Harry find themselves finally, blissfully, alone.  
  
Harry's picking through Louis’ candy grabbing everything with peanuts or peanut butter, which Louis has told him he can’t stand. (It’s not really a lie. They’re Harry’s favorite and Louis likes candy _without_ peanuts and peanut butter better.)

Harry begins unwrapping a chocolate at the same time as Louis does. Their motions are almost in sync. Although, actually, Harry might be just a tad quicker.

Louis times it so that they bite into their candy in unison and Harry, catching on, laughs. He says, “Bet I can unwrap and eat more of these in a minute than you can?”

Louis hadn’t pegged Harry for the competitive type, though given the state of his homework calendar and his huge slate of extracurriculars, it shouldn’t be a surprise.

Still, Louis raises a disbelieving eyebrow because Harry’s clumsy and Louis’ a champ at chocolate eating. “You’re on.”

Harry dives into his pile with a wild gusto that probably doesn’t help him at all. Still, he’s fast; faster than Louis would have expected and they’re swallowing their first candies and opening up their second at pace.

Louis’ reaching into his lap for his third when Harry’s hand flies in out of nowhere, clutching at the wrappers and candies beside Louis’ crotch. He comes directly into contact with Louis’ dick and it’s definitely less of an accidental brush and more of a clear, hopeful grope.  

“Hey,” Louis calls, trying to sound offended.

Harry, who’s now lost it and forgotten the challenge and the candy, laughs as he ducks the papers that Louis begins to lob at him.

“Now kiss me you fool,” Harry demands and Louis is happy to oblige. He kisses Harry’s neck, first, sure to use teeth because the little brat deserves some payback and then moves quickly to his cheek, his chin, and, finally, his lips. Harry’s laughing cuts off the moment Louis captures his mouth. It’s quickly replaced by sweet, soft, needy moans.

Louis has him pinned on a bed of chocolate and wrappers and the longer they kiss the closer they become enmeshed hip to hip, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, and their hands linked above Harry’s head.

Harry’s hips lift and Louis’ right there coming down to meet them, eager to feel the hot press of his cock through the fabric of their pants. Harry’s dick is large and he seems amazingly unselfconscious about allowing Louis to feel it, to feel how hard he is, how much he likes this, how hot Louis makes him.

Harry untangles their fingers and runs his hands down Louis’ back to grip at his hips, pulling them impossibly tighter together. The force of his grasp limits Louis’ movements considerably, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind because after several more tiny, jerky upwards thrusts he’s hissing and whining and coming.

Louis feels the wet of it begin to seep onto his own pants at the same moment his mother’s laughter trickles brightly up the stairs.

With a whine of his own, he rolls off Harry and puts several inches of space between them. He’s still hard, aching for it, and like, he _knows_ he’ll ache even more in a few minutes if he doesn’t get off, but, like, “Shit, Harry, anyone could have come in.”

Harry’s still laying flat and boneless on the floor. The wet spot on the front of his jeans and the outline of his softening cock is fascinating to Louis and he simultaneously wants to cover it up and keep looking at it forever.

“You really don’t want anyone to know, do you? Like, not even your mom?”

Louis scoots closer to Harry and wraps one of Harry’s curls around his index finger. “No, she knows.”

Harry rolls onto his side and sends Louis a miserable, almost panicked look as he asks, “Does she, like, not, um, approve, or something? I mean my mom had a hard time, at first. She asked me like a hundred times if I was _sure_ , but she also told me she’d love me always and stuff.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, she likes it, I think. Said she always suspected. Apparently, I’ve chosen some really boyish girlfriends.” Louis winces as he thinks about the somewhat patronizing smile his mom had worn as she’d explained to him all the ‘gay’ things Louis’d done that had clued her in long before he’d even admitted it to himself.  “Actually, I think she’s as eager for me to go to college and come out as I am. Like, she thinks maybe I’m _behind_ because I don’t have the same experience with boys that my friends have with girls.”

Harry waggles his eyebrows and puts a hand over Louis’ clothed dick. “You totally do, though.” Louis’ gone soft and achey, but Harry begins to stroke a bit and Louis can feel the blood returning. He bats Harry’s hand away.

“Not really. I’ve only done what we’ve done.” It’s hard to admit, but because Louis is ninety percent sure the same is true for Harry, he’s forces himself to share it. "We haven’t gone very far at all, like measuring by Zayn and Perrie standards.”

Harry kisses Louis’ cheek and whisper into his ear, “We can go farther, you know, if you want.” Then he rolls back onto his back and asks, “How’d that go for them anyway, making love in your minivan, I mean?”

Louis closes his eyes. “I don’t know.” He opens his eyes again and looks around the room. He reaches over to flip on the TV and the Wii menu pops up.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks scooting over so that they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder against the end Louis’ bed, facing the screen.

Louis shrugs and offers Harry a controller. Harry doesn’t take it. “Come on, Louis. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Zayn’s being a dick,” Louis tells him. It’s not quite the truth because Zayn did try to call Louis once this week and he’d texted Louis twice (one a ‘what up’ and the other the details for tomorrow’s party) and he’d sat next to Louis during AP Lit every day. That’s actually quite a bit of friendshippiness for Zayn.

Louis sighs. He’s not sure how to explain what happened with Zayn, especially not to Harry. He turns his body toward Harry and finds him already turned toward him, head tilted, chewing a piece of gum loudly and with his mouth slightly open.

(Louis’ a little appalled that this doesn’t actually gross him out, but rather makes him feel even more stupidly connected to Harry.)

Louis says, “Zayn found the gay sex pamphlet my mom gave me.”

Harry’s eyes widen and he leans toward Louis, pressing their foreheads together. “You have a gay sex pamphlet. You’ve been holding out on me!”

Louis makes a face and starts Wii Bowling (Harry’s favorite game, he remembers). “There’s this thing, Harold. It’s called the internet. On it you can find out everything you ever did and did not want to know about sex.”

Harry huffs out a breath and picks up his own controller. “Maybe _you_ can. My mom has monitored my internet usage very closely ever since she discovered me watching Porntube in sixth grade. It was only like my fourth or fifth time, too. It’s really not fair.”

Louis nods along, a little disappointed Harry’s lost track of Louis’ friendship dilemma. He’s no sooner thought it though, when Harry adds, “What did Zayn say, then?”

Louis pauses the game and drops his controller in his lap. “Nothing. He didn’t say anything.”

Harry nods, as though he expected this. “What did you say?”

Louis flushes and restarts the game. “Not much.”

Harry leans over Louis and pauses the game. “What is not much?”

Louis tucks his feet up under him and throws his arms back behind him to rest wide open on the bed. “Nothing, Harry. I said nothing because _he left_.”

“Oh.” Harry continues, nodding. He’s stopped chewing the piece of gum and Louis thinks he might have swallowed it. “Do you think he’s got a problem with it?”

Louis frowns and closes his eyes. Zayn’s usually one of his most liberal and understanding friends. He’s pretty sure he’s heard Zayn make a very eloquent statement to Liam (who’s slow about _all_ things, but especially about shit like this) about why the government should mandate that all gay couples have the same rights as straight couples.

“I don’t think so, I just think he doesn’t- we don’t know how to talk about, like, _me_.”

This makes Harry smile a bit. Which, “It’s not funny, Harry. I’m being serious.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, yeah, you are. But it’s just. That’s exactly why I had the idea that I was trying to tell you about. Remember the other day in the library, when I said I wanted to help you build up your extracurriculars. But actually also I needed you to help me?”

Louis does remember, vaguely, so he nods and waits for Harry to continue.

“I was thinking that, like, we maybe could start a Gay-Straight Alliance. You know, at school.”

That sounds like the worst idea that Louis has ever heard. He covers his face with both hands. “Is that, like, where we’d cover everything in rainbows and march around with high heels and feather boas shouting about Pride and Marriage Equality? Because, if so, then, no.”

“Not really,” Harry says, very slowly. Louis peaks at him from between his fingers and he adds, “Well, maybe, but that’s not all we’d do. We’d like mainly provide information for gay kids and their friends and parents. It could be a safe place for the ones that are, like, out, to hang and be themselves. And also meet each other.”

So the club itself sounds alright. Like, Louis’d like to know that his school _had_ a club like that, even if he’s not sure he’d participate. But he definitely doesn’t want to lead it. “Sorry, Harry, but I honestly don’t know the first thing about being gay.”

Harry stares at him for a moment before leaning close and whispering in Louis’ ear, “Penis.”

The word startles a laugh out of Louis and, reluctantly, he agrees, “Okay, yeah. I know the _first_ thing about being gay.”

Harry nods back at him with mock seriousness. “You’re a perfect candidate for President. You’re very pretty and you should definitely be the face of the movement.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, Harry. I’m sorry, but that’s really not me. I mean, I can’t even talk to my _best friend_ about being gay. How am supposed to talk to a whole club full of people about it.”

Harry pouts. “I can’t do it by myself.”

The thought of Harry _trying_ to do it by himself makes Louis’ heart ache. “I can help, like, behind the scenes, or whatever, but I don’t want to officially be a part of it.”

Harry flips the controller around in his lap. Turning to meet Louis’ eyes, he says, “That’s cool. I could definitely use some help researching and stuff. But, like maybe you could keep thinking about it?”

Louis sets his jaw and unpauses the game. “It’s not going to change my mind, Harry. I have a whole _plan_.”

Harry kicks his foot. “Does your ‘plan’ involve me?”

Louis doesn’t know. He wants it to, but he doesn’t think it does. Although, now that Harry’s involved and now that Liam and Zayn know, Louis’ plan seems messier. He doesn’t answer Harry’s question.

The two of them bowl silently (but also vigorously- Harry accidentally knocks the lamp off Louis desk) until Harry’s mom calls up the stairs that it’s time for him to go.

Their goodbye is quiet and awkward, but not painfully so. Harry accepts the kiss Louis offers, even if he pulls away quickly to duck out of the room and rush down the steps.  

~

In the library the next day, Harry is the first to break their silence by passing Louis a note.

 _Are you going to Liam’s party tonight_?

Louis frowns at the note. He wouldn’t have thought that Harry would know about the party. He wonders if _Harry_ is going.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out. It’s a text from Zayn.

_You should bring your boyfriend to the party_

Louis shifts in his seat and glances at Harry. He and Zayn haven’t even talked about him being gay and now Zayn’s making assumptions about his love life and _Harry’s_ place in it, like what?!

It’s very un-Zaynish.

Another text comes in. _sry perrie_

And then another. _come tho. Miss u. Harry can come 2._

And finally, _Or not or whatever._

Louis types out several responses, including ‘okay’ and ‘no thanks’ and ‘harry’s not my boyfriend’ and ‘why the fuck did you leave?????’ He deletes each of them and decides that he’ll figure out the best thing to say later, when he’s had some time to think about it.

When he looks up, Harry’s watching him and immediately shoves over their note paper which he seems to have confiscated while Louis was preoccupied with Zayn’s texts. Next to his initial question, Harry has drawn what looks like a family of penis-shaped gourds each of which have a thought bubble containing multiple question marks.

Louis scribbles come shooting out the bottom of the largest one and then writes back, _are you????_

Harry cackles when he sees the drawing and then meets Louis eyes and whispers,“I kind of want to, but they’re _your_ friends, so I’ll go if you go.”

Louis’ chest clenches. It’s not that he doesn’t want to go, it’s just, well, he doesn’t know how people (Liam and Zayn and Perrie and whoever the hell else they’ve told) are going to react to him. And there’s only a very small window of possibilities that don’t make him sick to think about.

He doesn’t want to be asked questions, but he also doesn’t want anyone who knows to pretend like they don’t know.

Also, _Harry_.

He doesn’t think it’s fair that Harry will be caught up in his mess. Because Louis’ friends know about Louis, now, if he brings adorable sophomore Harry wearing a rainbow bracelet, they’ll all assume Harry’s gay, too. (They’d be right, obviously, and Harry hasn’t expressed any concern at this likelihood, but he’s clearly young and unwise and not thinking this all the way through.)

Louis sighs and folds his arms. Harry’s written _PLEASE??????????????_ and drawn about a hundred hearts around it.

Louis rolls his shoulders and stretches his back. He takes his time with it, thinking. Harry watches him carefully, eyes big, probably distracted by Louis’ very fine muscles. Finally, Louis writes, _let’s both go, but not together_

Harry reads the note and frowns. He slides it back to Louis without answering and begins to pack up his bag. This time it’s Louis who’s caught watching Harry move. He’s wearing a tighter shirt and tighter pants than usual and he looks _good_. Sexy, even though he’s pouting like a child.

He puts on his backpack even though they still have eight minutes of lunch left and says, “If you don’t want to go to the party with me, then I’ll find someone else to go with.”

Louis laughs after him. Because, like, Harry’s not going to find _someone_ else. Louis doesn’t even know if there are any other gay boys in the school. Harry’s just making a stink.  He thinks. He hopes.

~

Harry brings Niall to the party. Or, rather, Niall has a car and can drive, so Niall brings Harryto the party. They enter wrapped up in each other and laughing.

And naked.

Well, Harry’s naked. Mostly.

It takes Louis about five minutes of mostly open staring to realize that he’s come as Miley Cyrus. Under normal circumstance, Louis would have just asked Harry what his costume was meant to be. Normal circumstances do not involve Louis being able to see the clear lines of Harry’s abs or the bulge of Harry’s dick.

Niall’s hand is still on Harry’s shoulder- pale skin to fucking paler skin- as the two step into the kitchen where Perrie’s mother is passing out drinks- something that looks like bright red blood in test tubes and apple cider with eyeballs in it.

It’s not too small of a party, thank God. Perrie’s invited a whole bunch of girls from her dance studio and her sisters each have a few people over as well, so Louis’ able to lose himself in the crowd.

He talks to Josh a bit about AP Euro and then to Danielle, who’s finally un-grounded, about Liam’s Batman costume. He’s trying to cajole a group of girls he doesn’t really know (and who he hopes have poor depth perception and equally poor geometry skills) into playing pool with him when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

It’s Zayn, which is unexpected and awkward.

Zayn is the fucking bomb at pool and Louis would _love_ to play with him, but also Louis has no idea what to say to him about like, the whole pamphlet-he’s-gay thing.

Zayn breaks the silence for both of them. “Vas up?” He asks showing off his vampire teeth. His breath is rank and Louis wonders if Perrie has a secret liquor stash somewhere that she’s holding out on.

Drunk Zayn can get chatty- or, well, chatty for Zayn.  

Louis shrugs and decides he needs to end the conversation as quickly as he can. “Just carrying around this pool stick for no reason. Have you seen Greg?”

Zayn grabs the end of the cue, which is apparently fascinating because he can’t tear his gaze away while he says, “Louis, about the other thing, from last weekend. It’s not a big deal at all. It’s, you know, _whatever_.”

Louis pulls the cue out of Zayn’s hands. Zayn’s wrong; Louis’ friends knowing about him _is_ kind of a big deal for Louis. It’s definitely not ‘whatever.’ But Louis doesn’t know how to say that without being a drama queen, so instead, he says, “Wanna find some unsuspecting couple to smash in pool?”

Zayn’s eyes narrow. He’s clearly not satisfied with Louis’ response. (Which, like, okay, but Louis wasn’t satisfied with _him_ first so.)

“Heeeyy,” Harry calls running down the stairs and literally bowling Louis over onto the floor. The basement isn’t carpeted and Louis’ certain that the fall bruises his tailbone. “Oh my god, Harry.”

Harry raises himself up off Louis and singsongs, “Came in like a wrecking ball.”

Louis closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the floor. It’s painful but not as painful as Harry’s sense of humor.

When he opens his eyes, Harry’s still straddling him and he’s waggling his eyebrow, clearly awaiting Louis’ inevitable laughter at his spectacularly hilarious joke.

Louis whaps Harry in the side with the pool cue and Harry’s face turns so _sad_ that Louis gives in and shout-sings, “I never hit so hard in love, all I wanted was to break your walls!!”

It’s terrible, screechy and gross. It’s so bad that it draws several boos, but it makes Harry beam. Louis beams back and then, when Harry’s leaning forward, eyes closing and lips pursing like he’s ready for a kiss, Louis shoves him off and onto the floor saying, “Your fat ass is heavier than Miley’s for sure.”

Standing, Louis cups his hands around his mouth (even though it’s pretty quiet and there’s only like six other people in the basement) and shouts, “Anyone up for a game of pool?”

Harry wraps a hand around his ankle and says, “Me, I am. Love pool.”

~

Zayn and Louis whallop Harry and Niall. It doesn’t help that Harry believes sinking the cue ball wins the game and wastes several turns trying to do so before Niall catches on and explains the rules to him.

Louis’d realized Harry’s mistake right off, but then had been so distracted by Harry’s determined face- the same one he got when working at very difficult chemistry equation- and so taken in by the little corner of his tongue that kept popping out, that he hadn’t thought to say anything.

The best thing about the game, aside from the few killer burns he’d been able to throw at Niall- he’d been dying to call him a ‘pansy-ass homewrecker’ all night and trash-talking _is_ part of the game-, is that he and Zayn seem to be cool again.

Like, they work together and they strategize and in between rounds Zayn offers him few sips of the whiskey that Perrie’s procured from her dad’s stash.  

Now they’re sitting together on the couch, Louis and Perrie and Zayn, while Harry sits on the ground beside them, his head resting against Louis’ knee, and watching _Hocus Pocus._ Harry’s got a bowl of candy corn in his lap and he occasionally tosses one over his shoulder at Louis.

With everyone finally settled in, Louis can see how small the party has become. It’s just ten of them now, and mostly seniors. He wonders if the dance girls are watching their own movie in Perrie’s room, or if they’ve gone home.

The movie is just starting to get good when Liam walks into the room and stands in front of the TV.

It’s surprising because the last time Louis’d seen Liam, he’d been deep into a game of Madden upstairs with Perrie’s little cousin. And the ten year old kid had appeared to be kicking his ass. Liam hates losing at video games and Louis hadn’t expected him to join the party until he’d thoroughly defeated his preteen opponent.

Still, here he is, talking over the television.

“I just wanted to say something,” he’s announcing.

Zayn pauses the movie. “Shut up. Remember Louis’ rule from last time. No talking or you get smacked in the nuts.”

Liam’s brow furrows. “No, okay, _no_. I thought that was just for Harry. And anyway this is really important.” He pulls something out of his pocket. It has a map of California on the back and Louis is pretty sure it’s an American History worksheet.

“Louis,” he begins and Louis freezes. “We’ve all known you for a long time. A lot longer than we’ve known Harry.” He stops and looks up from his paper and to add, “But we really like Harry, don’t worry.”

Louis unfreezes, “What’s all this, Liam? About to confess your undying love to me right here. Don’t worry, I already know. Let’s watch the movie.”

Liam coughs. His are watery and Louis thinks he might cry, “No, that’s not- I’m not gay. And I thought you liked-”

“I’m fucking starving!” Niall shouts through a mouthful of popcorn. “And what about these vacuum cleaners the witches are riding. Do you think they’re lethal? Do you think I could buy one?”

Liam glares at him. “Guys, stop! I’m trying to do something serious.”

Louis stands, grabs Liam by the arm, stomach churning, and starts dragging him toward the stairs. “Let’s go chat upstairs.”

“Hey, what?! I wanted to say in front of everyone that it doesn’t matter what-“ Louis throws a hand over his mouth and settles for pulling him into what appears to be Perrie’s laundry room.

“Liam, you can’t just, like, announce to everyone we know that I’m gay.” As soon as it’s out of his mouth Louis realizes that he’s not totally sure that’s where Liam was going. Like, he and Liam haven’t even talked about the fact that he’s gay. Sure, he’d seen him and Harry making out, but, like, Liam sometimes doesn’t _catch on_. Also, Louis had just been kicked off Quiz Bowl _and_ the soccer team. Maybe he’d wanted to say something about those debacles.

He watches Liam to see if he shows surprise, to see if he’s misjudged. Liam doesn’t look surprised, but he does look miserable.

“Crap, Louis. I was trying to be nice.” He’s turning huffy and Louis’ confused as to what gives _him_ the right to be angry.

Louis folds his arms over his chest. “Nice?! Liam, if you wanted to be nice you should have sent me flowers or offered to do my AP Computer Science assignment for Monday.”

“I just wanted everyone to know that I think you’re great. And if they have a problem with you, I’ll kick their butts.”

Louis winces. It’s nice that Liam wants to defend Louis; Louis can admit that. But he also doesn’t want his sexuality to be a spectacle- or, at least, he doesn’t want it to be a spectacle that he’s not totally in control of.

He sighs and rubs his arms. “I’m really glad, but, like, just leave it and maybe, don’t tell anyone else.”

Liam nods, but he’s frowning. “You shouldn’t have to keep it a secret.”

Louis shrugs and hugs himself more tightly, “Maybe not.”

They look at each other for a moment. Louis doesn’t really know what else to say. He kind of wants to read Liam’s speech.

He says, “Let’s go back,” at the same time as Liam says, “What’s it like? How’d you know and stuff?”

“What?” Louis asks as he walks to the door.

“Nevermind,” Liam says and Louis kind of wishes one of them had the guts to continue the conversation, but they’re at a party. And it’s _hard_ , like, talking about this _,_ so that’s the end of it.

~

Harry follows Louis and Liam upstairs afterward, offering to help Louis bring down some more popcorn and a refill on drinks.

Liam turns before they reach the kitchen and Louis hears him tell Perrie’s brother to pause his game, that he’s now ready for another rematch.

There’s no one around to watch as Louis grabs a few more fistfuls of popcorn to top off the bowl and Harry ladles three cups of cider.

“I like your costume,” Harry says. “Very manly. Very green.”

Louis laughs and looks at him. “I thought I would definitely have the best pecs at this party.” He flicks one of Harry’s tape covered nipples. “I was wrong.”

Harry flushes and then leans over to kiss him. Louis pulls back quickly- the house is _full_ of people- but he gives Harry a grateful smile. He kind of wishes the two of them could split and spend the rest of night together alone somewhere else.

He wants this partly because he wants more kisses (and also maybe blowjobs) and partly because he has _no idea_ what to say to his friends downstairs. Liam’s speech was so weird and the ones who didn’t know what was going on now probably suspect or are begging the others to tell. Everything is _so_ awkward and awful.

But he also knows that if speculation is high now, it’d be even higher if he left. And things were just starting to get better with Zayn. He has to stay.

As they make their way back downstairs, Harry tells him, “They weren’t talking about you, after you and Liam disappeared. I think they really don’t want to upset you. They’re _good_ friends, Louis.”

Louis nods. “I just don’t know what to say about it. And I don’t think I want _everyone_ to know.”

He looks down and Harry’s rainbow bracelet glints up at him, taunting him.

He compromises with fate a bit. He’s not going to talk with his friends about everything, but he does sit down beside Harry on the floor. He spends the rest of evening making sure that some part of them is always touching- their shoulders, their knees, their pinkies- anything that’ll keep them connected.

~

Tuesday, Louis arrives in the library before Harry for the first time _ever_ and Louis wonders if something is wrong.

They haven’t talked in person since the Halloween party, although Harry’s been sending him a steady stream of quotes from _A Separate Peace_. He’s apparently writing an essay about how the two main characters, Gene and Phineas, are clearly in _love_ and not just the ‘friendshippy’ kind.

(Louis doesn’t think this fits the assignment Harry described, so hopefully Harry’s teacher will be as charmed by Harry’s excitement on the subject as Louis is.)

And during yesterday’s lunch Louis _finally_ took Liam up on their weightlifting wager- a spectacle Zayn watched with asshole-ish glee. Louis woke up this morning with _very_ sore legs, though they’re not as sore as his ego. (He’d lost, of course.)

He grabs a bag of chips from his backpack and begins munching as he pulls out his own AP Lit assignment to edit. It’s half a page of nonsense about how much ‘adversity’ he faced being raised by a single mom.

He’d set aside all of Sunday to work on his ‘Practice College Admissions Essay’ for today’s peer editing session and what he’s got is still totally bullshit and also about 150 words too short.   

He’s just praying Mr. Aurland doesn’t want to use _his_ essay as an example. He’s pulled that kind of stunt with Louis before, claiming it’s because Louis _clearly_ likes everyone knowing _exactly_ what’s on his mind. (And, okay, he can talk a lot in class, but that is _so_ different.)

Louis’ found three typos in the first paragraph and is furiously scribbling the corrections when he feels someone settle in beside him.  

Harry.

He knows without even glancing up from his assignment. Things have gotten bad enough (good enough?) that Louis can recognize him by the smell of his apple-y shampoo.

Harry pokes Louis in the shoulder and says, “Hey, look at me.”

Louis does, of course, and can’t help but smile. Harry’s wearing an orange sweater that’s about two sizes too large for him. He looks like a pumpkin and Louis wants to cuddle him. Instead, he kicks him in the shin.

Harry frowns. “Ouch.” He tugs the paper out of Louis’ hands. “What are you writing?”

Louis snatches it back and tucks it in his bag. “Just an essay for class. It’s boring.” It’s definitely bad enough that he doesn’t want Harry to see it.

Harry pouts, but then he says, “Mr. Grimshaw _loved_ my essay, you know, the one I was texting about. I turned it in yesterday and he read it last night and asked me to meet with him about it just now! Can you believe that?”

Louis thinks Mr.Grimshaw is a little bit of a skeeze- an intelligent, invested-in-his-students skeeze, but definitely a skeeze. He doesn’t say this because he knows that Mr. Grimshaw is Harry’s very favorite teacher.

He says, “Cool.”

Harry nods, “He’s gay. He has a _boyfriend!_ They both _love_ A Separate Peace, apparently. Like, Nick- he said I could call him that- he read the essay to him. Because he thought my writing was _really_ good. Like, _brave_ and well done.”  

“Quiet, boys,” Ms. Caroline calls over. She’s smiling, though, and Louis’ sure that if _he’d_ been the one talking so loud, her words would have been delivered a little more harshly.

Louis feels itchy all over, like he had the day he got kicked off the soccer team. He wants to punch someone.

He thinks about his own shitty essay and then he thinks about Mr. Grimshaw perched on the edge of his desk, probably with one handon Harry’s shoulder, inviting Harry to call him ‘Nick.’

Harry sets his essay down between them and Louis contemplates ripping it up. Instead, he pulls it over and scribbles across the top, _you want to do some research on the GSA this week?_

Louis really shouldn’t. He’s planning on trying out for the winter play and auditions are next week. He should spend his free time on that and probably also on this stupid college essay on ‘adversity’ or whatever.

Harry bites his lip and shoots Louis a hopeful smile, _Thursday?_

Louis smiles back and nods. He doodles Harry a rainbow. It’s all black, so he doodles clouds on either side, just so it’s clear what it is.

Harry giggles. And writes, _where’s the gold?_

Louis waggles his eyebrows and draws a pot overflowing with dicks.

~

Louis only has one chair in his room and his computer is an old laptop with a tendency to overheat, so Harry’s pretty much forced to sit on his lap as they research.

Starting a Gay-Straight Alliance seems surprisingly straightforward. The website makes it seem as though it’s just like starting any other student club, even though Louis does not feel like it’s same as starting a Spanish Club. Like, the latter sounds way easier, way less _dangerous_.

But apparently all they need is some paperwork from the school. Harry knows the office ladies- they apparently always give him candy from a secret special stash- and he volunteers to get it the next day.

The next question is: “What will you do? Like, once you’ve got the paperwork filled out?”

Harry doesn’t seem to hear Louis. He’s still clicking away on the GSA website, scanning page after page while Louis tries to think of ways to distract him. He runs his hands through Harry’s hair, rubs his palms over Harry’s thighs, and tickles Harry’s armpits.

Harry squirms and reaches around to pin Louis arms to the arms of the chair. “Stop,” he says, eyes still on the computer screen.

After a minute, he lifts his arms to click to another page and Louis digs his fingers right back into Harry’s ribs. Harry giggles and turns so he’s straddling Louis.

“What?”

Louis says, “What are you going to _do_ at your Gay-Straight Alliance?

Harry raises an eyebrow, “At _our_ first Gay-Straight Alliance meeting, _we_ will discuss what _we_ want to do together.”

“I’m not-“ Louis cuts in, but Harry continues talking over him, “Once we have a group of people, we can decide want to be a social group or a support group or an activist group or whatever mix we want.”

Louis twists Harry’s nipple and Harry squeaks.  He leans forward to bite Louis’ shoulder through his shirt and, wetly, with his mouth full of cotton, he says, “You’re going to be in this, too. I haven’t given up hope.”

“I’m not,” Louis replies. “I have lots of other things to do. I do not want a support group or a social group or an- what did you call the last option?”

Harry sits up straight and plucks at the hem of Louis’ shirt. His touches are becoming a little distracting. Louis slides his hands up the back of Harry’s shirt, thinking that they’re probably done talking for now, just as Harry says, “Like, we could have a meeting about how to handle things with your friends. Maybe help people avoid stuff like what happened with Liam.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s sides and lets his nails dig into his skin a bit, “Nothing happened with Liam. It’s fine. I figured it out.”

“Come on, Louis. That sucked. You almost pissed your pants when he started talking. There’s got to be a way to talk about how to be a good friend to someone who’s, like, in the process of coming out. I want that for my friends.”

Louis releases Harry and folds his hands across his chest. Looking up at the ceiling, he says, “Good for you. I don’t.”

Harry leans forward so his head rests awkwardly against Louis’ shoulder and Louis can’t take it.  He’s got to get out of this chair and also this conversation.

He shakes himself. “My legs are falling asleep, Harold. Let’s get on the bed.”

Harry’s face turns worried. “Did I hurt you? Am I too heavy?”

Louis stands and stretches a bit before collapsing onto the bed. “Yeah, you beast. Really crushed me. Are you trying injure me permanently so that you can-“

Harry kisses him. It’s a hard, determined kiss, containing more feeling than the moment calls for. Still, Louis finds himself returning it eagerly. _God_ , Harry’s so fucking wonderful and- Louis runs a hand over Harry’s ass- so _fucking_ hot.

Harry pulls back, lips wet, eyelids heavy. “Louis.” His voice is thick. “You’re like,” he pauses and Louis’ heart drops out. Harry blinks and starts again, “Your kisses are like.” He stops again.

Louis wraps curl around his finger and pulls. “Yes?”

Harry closes his eyes. “Perfect,” he finishes, finally.

Louis swallows and watches the rise and fall of Harry’s chest. Their legs are tangled and Louis can feel Harry hard against him. In a rush, he wants more. He wants all the things. All the _sex_ things, and _with Harry_.

But he has no idea what to do or where to start and he really, _really_ doesn’t want to mess up. He sinks a hand into Harry’s hair and says, “I think I would go to GSA if we provided people, like, gay sex tips.”

Harry moans and nuzzles up into Louis’ touch. “Pretty sure… if you… the internet… fuck, that feels good.” He rolls closer to Louis and begins to press kisses along his throat.

The _internet_ is a good idea. Like, Louis’ watched porn before, but he’s not- , that doesn’t seem very helpful now that he’s in the midst of things.  Maybe if he googled _gay sex instructions_ or something like that.

For now, all he has to build on is what he knows and what he knows is a hand on your dick is _the best_. So he moves to the zip of Harry’s khakis and murmurs into his ear, “Is this okay?”

Harry nods against his neck and then bites down, really hard. It stings and then, _shit,_ a rush of pleasure shoots up and down Louis’ spine. His brain goes white and his fingers fall off Harry’s button.

When Harry lets up, Louis blinks his eyes open to see Harry’s green ones focused on the spot on Louis’ neck. “I hope people see it,” he says.

Louis chokes out a laugh. He’s not opposed to that, actually. It’s not like anyone other than his closest friends will know who it’s from.

His gaze catches on Harry’s neck and he says, “Let me do you,” and dives right in. He licks the salty skin first and then lets his teeth settle lightly.

Harry moans, “Lou, do it _more.”_ And so Louis bites down. The skin gives easily and Louis thinks he might break it, but the iron taste never comes. Still, it’s got to hurt and Harry writhes a little next to him, but he doesn’t ask Louis to stop.

Louis sits back and sees the large red circle blooming on Harry’s neck. “God, your mom is going to kill me.”

The laugh Harry lets out is rough and tickles Louis’ senses as thoroughly as his kisses do. “I thought you were, like, going to, _you know_ ,” Harry says, taking Louis’ hand and returning it to the front of his pants.

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Greedy.”  It comes out more sweet than cheeky and Louis realizes that he’s having, like, _feelings_.

He finishes undoing Harry’s pants and reaches to pull his dick out through the front of his boxers. Harry pushes his hand away and pulls his pants and boxers down over his hips.

“Harry, my _mom_.”

Harry cups his whole package, holding out his balls and his hard, pink cock for Louis to inspect. “I don’t have anything she hasn’t seen before.”

“Oh my god.” Louis brushes a piece of hair out of his eyes. “What about my sisters?”

Harry grunts and, apparently giving up on Louis, begins to stroke himself in earnest. His fist looks tight, tighter than Louis usually likes, and he’s twisting in a way that seems like it might be a little painful. The thing is, he’s _definitely_ enjoying himself. He’s letting out these tiny, breathy groans, that Louis _hopes_ no one else can hear. With each noise, Louis own dick _throbs_.

“Hey, Harry, let me.” As soon as the words are out of Louis’ mouth, Harry’s releasing himself and letting his hands fist in Louis’ duvet.

Louis follows Harry’s lead, stroking hard and tight, and it’s so much better when _he’s_ the one causing Harry’s little sounds, when _he’s_ the one in making Harry twitch.

Louis’ watching Harry’s face, taking in the way he’s biting his lower lip and the way a bead of sweat is making its way down his forehead, when he feels Harry spill over his fist with a final grunt.

He lays still and panting for a minute or two and Louis wipes his hand off on his sheet. He tells himself it’s not a big deal and that his mother has washed come-stained sheets before.

When he looks back, Harry’s eyes are trained on Louis’ crotch. “You next?”

Fuck, his voice is so _gravelly._

Louis scoots back. “It’s no big deal. I owed you.”

Harry makes a sour face. “No.”

Louis pushes at his shoulder. “Yes.”

Harry starts undoing Louis belt. Louis notes that Harry’s own pants are still down, stuck around his thighs, and his eyes flick toward the door. It’s still firmly closed and he decides to let it be.

Something deep in Louis _really likes_ Harry’s softening cock sitting out in _his_ bed.

Harry shoves Louis’ jeans down and his underwear, too, and then sits back and looks. And looks. And _looks_.

It’s a little uncomfortable and Louis fixes his hair and plucks at his shirt. Finally, he bops Harry on the nose and says, “Are you gonna do it, or what?”

Harry blinks. “You’re really beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Louis huffs. “Maybe you could, like, touch me?”

Harry reaches forward and then stops. “Before, in the library, I just went for it. But,” he meets Louis eyes, “I really want you to like it. So maybe you can talk me through it. Tell me what you want me to do?”

Harry sounds so uncertain, so _sweet_ , and it makes Louis’ heart _ache._ Yeah, he’sdefinitely feeling feelings.

“Sure,” Louis agrees and then, “So you can put your hand on my, um, my dick.”

Harry follows his instructions, circling Louis cock with his palm and Louis lets out a hiss at the sensation of skin on skin. But then Harry just leaves his hand there, looking at Louis curiously.

“Move your hand,” Louis says and Harry drums the fingers of his other hand against Louis’ hip. He’s smirking as he does so and Louis whines.

“Harry, like, stroke me, or, um, pull on my dick.”

Louis’ never talked about sex stuff before and it feels weird to say it out loud, but Harry responds well, slowly tugging at him. He’s pretty forceful, like he’d been with himself and it’s good- Louis _definitely_ could come like this- but Harry _had_ asked what he wanted, so he says, “Gentler and, like, faster.”

Harry swallows. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Louis face since he started and the intensity of his gaze is almost as stimulating as his hand.

Louis’ begun to breath hard, really hard, like he’s running, when Harry asks, “Good? Are you, like, you know?”

Louis nods and forces himself to say. “It’s so good. It’s the best. Your hands are, _fucking hell_.” He can’t talk anymore because can feel his orgasm building so so close and then.

He’s loud. He’s practically shouting as white fluid shoots out, and up and, embarrassingly, onto Harry’s shirt.

“Oh my god.” Louis knows he’s loud when he comes. Belatedly, he thinks he probably should have put on music before they started fooling around.

Harry picks up the corner of Louis’ sheets and wipes himself off. He watches Louis for a minute, both of them panting, and then leans down for a soft kiss on the lips. “It was good?”

His voice is rough and Louis can see that he’s hard _again,_ but Louis’ too tired to address it. Instead, he opens his arms, “Yeah, really good, come here.”

Harry settles easily into Louis’ embrace.

“You’re really great,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ chin.

“No, you are,” Louis replies.

They lie there, on top of Louis’ covers, whispering about nothing important, happy and sort of naked, until Harry’s mom texts that it’s time for him to come home.

~

That night, Louis makes a list of the reasons he cannot lead the club with Harry. It’s a very reasonable list. He’s going to give it to Harry in the library and Harry’s going to realize that Louis cannot actually, physically _participate_ in the GSA.

He brings it with him tucked into his AP European History textbook, which he sets on the library table next to Harry’s lunch.

Harry’s got his weird song journal out today. He has it with him more and more often these days and Louis still hasn’t gotten up the courage to really press him about it. He’s desperate to see what Harry’s writing.

He wants to know if any of it is about him.

If Louis were writing songs, there’d definitely be one about Harry and he just wants to know if they’re both on the same page.

Harry puts his pen down and looks up at Louis. He’s smiling. “Just finished a thing,” he announces, quietly.

He sounds super happy about it and Louis feels happy for him. He also wants to know more about this ‘thing’ he’s finished, so he asks, “Yeah? What are you working on? I was going to ask. I’ve been very curious about what’s going on in that notebook, Harold.”

Ms. Caroline coughs and glares. Louis does not glare back. He’s better than that. He knows the rules.

Harry taps the top of the closed notebook as Louis talks and he doesn’t immediately answer Louis’ questions.

Louis lays his hand down on top of Harry’s. “Are you gonna tell me or not?”

Harry tilts his head and meets Louis eyes. “Yeah, it’s a song. I’ll sing it for you.”

Louis leans forward and cups his ear, “I’m listening.”

Harry laughs. “Later, I mean.” Louis looks down to see that Harry’s begun fingering his bracelets and Louis knows it’s true. Harry’s written him a song.

His heart soars. “What’s it about?”

Ms. Caroline is walking toward them with her hands on her hips. She looks very stern. Harry looks from Louis to her and then back to Louis. He giggles, loudly, and doesn’t cover his mouth quickly enough to shutter the sound. They’re in for it.

“If you boys cannot be quiet today, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Louis taps his fingers against the side of his seat and doesn’t look up at her. Instead, he turns to Harry who’s flushed red with embarrassment and flipping through his notebook. He thinks about Harry’s maybe song thing and he has an idea.

“Sorry, Ms. Caroline. We’ll go somewhere else.” She looks suspicious, which she probably should be considering. Still, once they’re out of the library, they’re no longer her problem and Louis thinks that’s what has her nodding and gesturing toward the door.

Louis wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist and drags him down the hallway and around the corner. He goes as quickly as Harry will move which isn’t nearly fast enough in Louis’ estimation and involves far too much stumbling.

The choir room and the entrance to the hallway behind it are both unlocked and empty, which is perfect. Louis pulls Harry into a practice room and shuts the door behind them.

Flipping on a light, he says, “Alright, Harold, sing your song.”

Harry is out of breath. He shakes his head, so Louis grabs his book bag and begins to dig for the notebook. Harry tugs the bag back and scowls at Louis. “It’s not ready yet.”

Louis folds his arms and purses his lips. “You just said it was finished.”

“I have to practice.” There’s a whiny note to Harry’s voice and Louis decides it’s probably best to let it go. No need for Harry to have a hissy fit over it.

Besides, the practice rooms are soundproof and if they sit on the ground, no passerbys will be able to see them through the window. It’s perfect.  

He lowers himself to the floor, sprawls out invitingly, and looks up at Harry through his lashes. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Harry narrows his eyes, “Are you thinking about penises?”

Louis nods, because he is, and Harry collapses on top him with messy kisses.

~

It doesn’t take long for them to get each other off and Louis is handing Harry an old McDonald’s napkin he’d found in his backpack to wipe off his pants when they begin their first _real_ argument. It’s over who should be the club’s sponsor. It’s over Mr. Grimshaw.

The fight involves yelling (both of them) and namecalling (Louis) and a slamming door (Harry). After which Louis chases Harry through the hallway shouting apologies.

Louis catches Harry in the choir room because it’s dark and he trips over a chair and falls on his ass. Louis offers a hand to help him up, but Harry stays on the floor and says, “Louis, you can’t refuse to help anymore when I choose a sponsor you don’t like when you’ve said you’re not going to participate _anyway_. That’s not fair.”

“Grimshaw is a creep.” Louis crouches beside Harry and crosses his arms over his chest. “And I can do whatever I like. It’s a free country.”

Harry lays all the way down on the floor. “ _It’s not fair_. If _I’m_ going to have to run the club, I want Nick’s help.”

Louis leans over to brush some floor dust off Harry’s shirt. “I don’t like him.”

Harry closes his eyes. “Do you have a better idea?”

Louis looks around the room. “I was kind of the thinking Ms. T. She’s my favorite teacher, like my older sister or something. I trust her way more than grimy Grimshaw.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “I like Ms. T, too. I think she’d be good. But, well, I might have already asked Nick.”

Louis drops down to lie beside Harry. “You already asked him? Without talking to me first?”

Harry reaches out and tangles their fingers together. “I’m sorry. I thought you wouldn’t care because you didn’t want to come anyway.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand. “I don’t want to come, but if I’m, like, _helping_ , I care who’s in charge.” And then he adds, because it’s the most important part of his argument, “And also Nick would probably scare people away.”

“Don’t be mean,” Harry says.

The door to the room opens and the light flickers on. Louis lets go of Harry’s hand and sits up as quickly as he can, knocking his head on a chair. He’s rubbing it as he stands to see Ms. T loaded up with a stack of music.

“Well, hello, boys,” she greets them. She looks curious, but not really suspicious and definitely not bothered to have found the two of them on the floor of her dark and empty classroom.

“Perfect,” Harry greets her. “Hello, Ms. T, we were just saying we wanted to ask you something.”

He looks to Louis and Louis hisses out a surprised breath. He hadn’t thought they’d ask her _right away_. He meets Ms. T’s gaze to find her smiling at him expectantly. There’s humor in her eyes and it puts him at ease enough to say, “So we’re starting a new club, or, like Harry is and I’m helping.”

She moves to her desk and nods her head for them to follow. “Cool. Something to do with choir? A barbershop quartet? I’ve always wanted to have one.”

“My uncle is in a barbershop quartet,” Harry puts in. “They perform at the mall, sometimes.”

Louis smiles at Harry and shakes his head. “No, it’s not a barbershop quartet. It’s, like, it’s a Gay-Straight Alliance.”

Ms. T really looks at him for a second and then another second and then a few more. He’s aware of the thudding of his heart and Harry’s heavy breathing beside him.

Louis swallows and then says, “We wanted to know if you’d be the sponsor.”

Ms. T sits down and splays her fingers out in front of her, as if inspecting her nails. Then, she looks up at him with a very soft expression.  “Louis.”

Her eyes are maybe a little wet and Louis’ heart is racing now. “Us gay students could probably use some support.”

She stands again, quickly, nodding and laugh-crying, and pulls him into a hug. It’s a long hug and Louis’ not sure what he’s done to deserve it, but it’s nice. He feels like she might, like, _care_ , in a way that no one else has.  

Over his shoulder, she says, “Harry, come on, get in.” And then Harry’s joined the hug, wrapping up Louis from behind and, for the first time, Louis thinks that Harry really might be onto something with this whole thing.

Ms. T. pulls back and squeezes both Harry and Louis on the shoulder. “Okay, of course I’ll be your sponsor. God, wow, of course. What do you need me to do?”

Harry retrieves his bag from where it spilled out onto the floor when he fell. “Ni- Mr. Grimshaw is going to co-sponsor, too. You just need to sign. I’ll get you a manual or, you know, you can download one online.”

Louis watches Harry, eyes glued to his ass, as he repacks the bag, leaving out the appropriate paperwork.

The bell rings for passing time.

Taking the paperwork from Harry, Ms. T says, “Oh, I’m so happy for you guys. I can tell you’re good for each other.”

Louis thinks she’s suggesting that they’re a couple and, well, they’re really not. They’ve never talked about it and since Louis has _plans_ about when and how his whole coming out will go, plans that he still hasn’t figured Harry into, they can’t really be official. (Even if Louis really, really wants to marry Harry and have his children probably someday. And _oh, god, his feelings need to shut the fuck up._ )

“Yeah, mostly cause Louis is a great boyfriend,” Harry says, tucking his bag over his shoulder. Then he kisses Louis, who’s now completely dumbstruck, on the cheek, and nods toward the hall. “I have to run all the way to chem. Can you finish up here?”

“Yeah, I can, but,” he starts and before he can say more Harry’s out the door.

Ms. T laughs as she pulls out a pen from her desk. “I don’t know how you managed to get such a nice kid when you’re such a terror.”

Louis shakes his head, still very confused, and picks up his own backpack. Ms. T gives him another quick hug before handing him back the paperwork. “I’m so glad you’re doing this. I think it’s a really great idea. And really brave, Louis.”

Harry texts him that night, first just a goofy hello and then about whether or not everything was taken care of with Ms. T. Louis does not feel brave and he does not text back.

~

Harry leaves Louis a series of voicemails on Saturday. Louis sees each call come in and lets each ring and ring and ring. He’s been spending the day watching the blinking cursor taunt him from the document of his bullshit college essay.

He plays soccer with the twins a little bit in the afternoon and then makes a couple frozen pizzas for the family for dinner.

Afterwards, he fucks around on YouTube for a few hours instead of working on his essay and goes to bed early out of boredom before his mom gets home.

It’s only after he’s lain awake for forty-five minutes thinking about Harry that he listens to the messages.

“Heeey, Lou. Maybe your phone was turned off or maybe it ate my texts last night. I was wondering how you are doing. Call me back.”

“Heeey, Lou. Hope you call me back. I wanted to get together today or tomorrow, maybe to plan a little bit about who else we can get to be in our club. Cara and Niall already signed up on the sheet, but I thought maybe—“

“Heeey, Lou. Your voicemail cut me off. Just, you know, call me back. So we can talk about stuff and hang out. I miss you.”

“….I’m not sure if I did something. Are you still mad about Nick? Please call me back and we can talk about it.”

The last message is short, just, a drawn out “Lou” and a sigh, then a click and Harry’s hung up.

Louis doesn’t like that he’s kept Harry hanging. If he were in Harry’s position, he’d be _sick_ with worry, he knows he would. But he just can’t make himself call Harry back. He doesn’t know what he’d say and just the thought of trying to figure it out is painful.

Louis lies awake and Harry’s smile and his lips and his sex-rough laugh play on a loop in his head. He tries to think of something else- his sisters, his college essay, his mom, but his mind drifts again and again back to _Harry._

He _really_ cannot sleep. He tries the usual, jerking off (during which he pointedly does not think of Harry, at least not until he’s coming and helpless to stop himself), drinking a cup of tea, and reading a few pages from one of his mother’s nursing textbooks.

Nothing helps and he eventually turns on his Xbox and by the time he’s played himself to sleep, the sun is almost up.

~

Sunday goes much the same as Saturday with the added bonus that his mother has the day off. She bundles the girls up and takes them to the zoo in order to give Louis some peace and quiet so that he can _finally_ finish his essay.

(She also steals his gaming systems _and_ the cable box and hides them well; so well that Louis gives up looking for them after twenty minutes, suspecting that she’s put them in her trunk and taken them with her.)

Louis watches a few YouTube videos on his phone and texts Zayn a billion questions about Minecraft. Zayn only replies once with a ‘busy bro’ and Louis continues to pester him anyway.

~

Louis works hard to convince his mother to let him skip choir first hour on Monday so that he can work a little more on his essay. He’s running out of time to finish it.  Lottie has a dance recital in the evening that his mother is forcing him to attend and the final copy is due the following day. Reluctantly, she lets him, but she insists he work on the family computer so she can make sure he’s actually working on his essay and she makes him go into school for the rest of the day.

(Apparently, choir is less important than his other classes. He gives her the run around about ‘not valuing the arts,’ in the form of a speech which he’s heard countless times from Ms. T hoping she’ll let him take the whole day off. Instead, she replies that choir’s his only class without an ‘AP’ in front of it, but if he’d like her to make him attend that too, she’d be happy send him to school right away.)

He doesn’t finish the essay though, because his mother’s interested ‘hmm’ing as she reads the newspaper proves equally distracting as the temptations of Twitter and Instagram. So, at lunch on Monday, Louis _has_ to keep at it.  

The thing is, he’s got the full 350 words, but the story sounds weak. Well, actually, last week, Ollie, who’d peer edited for Louis, had said that it was ‘awesome, but clearly all lies.’

He’s wrong. It’s notlies, per se. Louis’ asshole father _had_ walked out on his mom when he was a baby (and not looked back, not fucking once, no money, no phone calls, not even a birthday card). So Louis _had_ lived in a single parent home (on and off) for most of his life. And Louis _had_ taken a huge part in raising his sisters.

He’d only stretched the truth in as much as he’d sort of over emphasized the trouble these things had caused him.

Louis’ mom was _amazing_ , so Louis didn’t actually feel like he was _missing_ something in terms of parenting, even though he’d said as much in the essay.  And his mom’s parents had come from a bit of money and both his ex-stepfather’s had paid significant alimony, so Louis’ never really felt poor or anything. Which, okay, he might have written a bit about scraping by and going to bed hungry sometimes. Finally, if anything, taking care of his sisters has made Louis _more_ responsible. Doing so certainly hadn’t put him behind on any of his schoolwork or anything, like he may have insinuated.

So the essay is a little melodramatic.

But the thing is, Louis’ life is pretty easy.

Figuring out a topic for this essay is probably the most adversity he’s _ever_ faced. And he’s so absorbed in the struggle as he enters the library that he’s caught off guard by the sight of Harry already there, eating a tuna fish sandwich, his homework spread out messily so that it covers the entire table.

Louis remembers that he hadn’t answered Harry’s messages and that Harry had stopped calling. Suddenly, very suddenly, Louis’ life seems _extremely_ difficult, but he can’t actually write about his _sex life_ in a college entrance essay so it’s not even _helpfully_ difficult.

Instead of joining Harry, Louis sits at a computer. He has to, he reasons, _his essay_ needs work. It has nothing to do with the fact that he has no idea how to interact with Harry now that Harry has apparently decided that they’re _boyfriends_ and then declared it to be so _out loud_ to another person.

Like. Louis doesn’t even. He’s not. Whatever- _the essay_ , he tells himself, focus on the essay.

He sticks in his flashdrive and loads up his work. The cursor blinks at him and Louis thinks it is, perhaps, an even crueler cursor than the one on his home computer.

Rolling his shoulders and fixing his hair in the most casual way possible, Louis is able to turn his body such that he can see Harry.

Harry’s biting his lip and actively _not_ looking at Louis in return. His shoulders are tense and he’s angled toward Louis, but he seems deeply interested in his upside down History textbook.

His hair is a mess and Louis thinks he must’ve been running his hand through it earlier, like he does when he’s agitated. Louis wonders if he had a test or something earlier in the day.

Louis thinks Harry must realize he’s being watched because he swallows, flips a page, and begins picking at his rainbow bracelet.

Louis looks back at the cursor and counts its blinks. He’s at 133 when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

Harry’s standing over him. There’s a line between his brows and he looks more than a little put out.

“What’s up, pal?” Louis says and it comes out mostly chill.

Harry rubs his chin. “Like, I wondered...”  He stops and looks down.

Louis can’t decide if he wants Harry to bring up the unanswered messages or not. He thinks he wants to talk about it, but probably not here and not now, and, also, actually maybe nowhere and never.

“Do you have the paperwork from Friday, when we talked to Ms. T? I want to turn it in as soon as possible.”

He’s looking down and Louis follows his gaze to stare at the spot on the floor between Harry’s pigeon toed K Swisses. The papers are in his backpack; he’d put them there this morning and considered turning them into the office himself, even though the list of founding members technically needs two more names. He thinks the administration would be forgiving.

He tells Harry, “Shit, sorry, I don’t have them. I think I must’ve of left them on my desk at home, but I don’t remember seeing them when I packed up for school. Sometimes my mom just gets the urge to clean and she might have thrown them away.”

Harry’s eyes widen with horror. “She might’ve thrown them _away_?”

Louis shrugs and says, “Sorry.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?!” Harry practically shouts before storming out of the library. Louis wants to follow him, but it feels as though his ass has been superglued to his seat and he can’t do anything but stare at the computer screen and that goddamn fucking asshole cursor.

~

He texts Zayn when he’s in physics, _will I fail hs if I don’t do this practice college essy?_

On his way home his phone lights up with Zayn’s response: _if you never finish, you’ll never go to college_

It’s a fair point and he calls Zayn as soon as he gets up to his room, “Write it for me.”

Zayn laughs, “I thought you already finished it. What’s the deal?”

Louis can hear kitchen noises in the background, a pot clanging and water running, like Zayn has him on speaker phone. He thinks Zayn must be doing his homework at the table while his mom cooks. Louis wonders if he’s got actual work out in front of him or just his sketch book right now.

“It’s terrible. My life isn’t even hard.” He’s never been so unhappy about being relatively happy in his life.

“Bro,” Zayn says. “Like,” there’s a click and the sound changes like he’s taken Louis off speaker, “You’ve had a pretty rough start to the year, haven’t you?”

Louis starts to pace. “I mean, what am I going to say, my life is hard cause I’m a dick who can’t keep his mouth shut or his hands to himself. My life is hard because I need to work on my self-control. Yeah, that’ll really have them begging me to come.”

Zayn’s voice is hushed when he says, “Isn’t that stuff all related to, like, _you know.”_

“Oh my god, Zayn, no.” Louis is _appalled_ Zayn would even suggest _that_. He says, “Pretty sure I’d be a hyperactive loser whether I was straight or gay. Come on, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. And don’t _even_ \- like, I’m not writing about my sexuality. That’s would be _stupid_. First, because I’m not even out. I haven’t even done anything to really ‘overcome the adversity.’”

As soon as he says it, he realizes it doesn’t feel strictly true. Telling his mom felt terrifying, and then also with Harry and his friends and finally Ms. T. But it wasn’t about courage and challenge and growth, like the essay is supposed to be. It was about honesty and trust and, like, just being _who he is_.

“Maybe you could, though, like. Harry told me about the club thing, you could start-” Zayn begins.

Louis sits down at his desk and cuts Zayn off. “I could, but I haven’t.”

“Write about that,” Zayn suggests. “Like, about why not.”

Louis huffs out a sigh. As if he’s going to write about _failing_ to overcome adversity.  Zayn adds, “Whatever, just turn in what you have. I’m sure it’s fine.”

It really isn’t. “I’ve got to go work on it, I guess.”

“K.”

As soon as they get off the phone, Zayn snapchats him a picture of Louis the Superhero with great abs, hot dad hair, a beard, and, of course, a huge package. It’s inspiring.

~

By the time they leave for Lottie’s ballet he’s written 400 words in a new document. (Many are about Harry. He’s going to have to delete those ones. Or edit them or something.)

Reading it through, though, he finally sees something honest and pretty interesting. With a few tweaks and about a hundred less words, it’s something he might even be able to be proud of. His new essay is a little bit about his self-control issues and a little bit about friendship and a lot about coming out.

Unlike his last essay, it contains no truth-stretching.

Well, actually, the last paragraph is about sacking up to help his ‘friend’ (he’s considering changing that to ‘boyfriend’ but he’s still so uncertain about Harry and about _things_ )to start the GSA at their high school. This final bit ties everything up so prettily –he’s attending to his behavior problems and he’s letting his friends see and know a part of himself he’s kept from them, all the while really figuring out what it means for _him_ , Louis Tomlinson, to be gay. It’s perfect- poetically so.

The only problem is that he’s fucked things up pretty badly with Harry and also he’s not actually sure that he’s ready to _start the fucking GSA_.

He prints out a copy to edit at lunch and sets it beside the club papers he’s pulled out of his bag for reference.

He studies the club paperwork for what must be the fiftieth time since they’ve come into his possession. They’re only short two of the five interested students necessary for the club to come into being. He pulls out a pencil and, as his mom shouts up the stairs that it’s time for them to leave for Lottie’s show, Louis jots down Zayn’s name and then his own.

~

Louis arrives at school fifteen minutes early the next day. It’s not a small trial, pulling himself out of bed at 6:15 instead of 6:30, but it’s also important and it’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep anymore anyway, not with his mind humming in a low level of panic about turning in the essay and the paperwork for the club.

Which he’s decided he _must_ do in order to turn in the paper.

He’d reopened the essay last night after Lottie’s recital- to edit Harry (mostly) out of it. He’d deleted the last paragraph as well. But when he reread the version that did not include him starting the GSA, he sounded like- well, he didn’t sound like the person he wanted to be.

So he’d rewritten it and as soon as he’d typed the last period, he felt better. Hopeful. He’d texted Zayn that he’d finished, to which Zayn had replied, _no shit_.

Zayn hadn’t included an emoji, so Louis had no idea what kind of ‘no shit’ he meant. But he’s pretty sure it was meant to be supportive, so he sends back a pile of shit and a thumbs up.

He had wanted to text Harry, too, about finishing the essay. He’d wanted to text Harry a lot things. He wanted to text Harry smileys, and rainbows, and hearts, and kissy faces, and blow jobs. He’s not sure how to emoji a blow job, but he’s willing try. Because Harry should have all the blow jobs in the world.

Not that Louis has any idea about how to blow someone. He and Harry will hopefully be able to engage in some hands on research and experimentation. If Harry decides to speak to him again, that is.

When he walks into the office with the club paperwork in hand, the administrative assistant smiles widely at him and greets him by name. He’s surprised she knows his name, but also glad. It’s nice to be known and the warm feeling it gives him buoys him as she reads over the GSA’s info.

She beams at him and says, “I’m so glad you’re starting this. We’ve really needed one of these, in my opinion. I’ll make sure the Assistant Principal sees it and approves it sometime today.”

She winks at him and it’s a little weird, because he thinks she’s trying to communicate that she knows he’s gay and likes him, maybe even for being gay, which is, well, yeah, it’s weird. But maybe cool weird. It hadn’t occurred to him that people might like _that_ about him.

~

Louis’ essay isn’t perfect. Louis’ always skipping words and letting his sentences run on too long, so he knows it needs one more look through, preferably by someone better at English than Louis. Zayn’s the obvious choice but when Louis goes to look for him at lunch, Perrie’s in his lap feeding him gummy worms.

It’s disgusting.

Except that Louis finds himself wondering if Harry has packed any candy in _his_ lunch and whether he might like it hand fed to him.

Which, actually, Harry might be a good choice for reading through the essay. He’s definitely awesome at English, especially for a sophomore, so he could do the edit easily.

But he’s not really talking to Louis or answering his texts.  (Though, to be fair, the only text Louis’d sent him was a heart-eyed smiley face and that was this morning while eating his cereal.)

Louis thinks that if he could get across to Harry that he’s turned the papers in, that he’s decided to be _out_ , and that he hopes Harry will be his _boyfriend,_ maybe Harry’d want to talk to Louis again. And help him.

He’s not sure how to communicate with someone who doesn’t want to communicate with him. When he and Lottie fight, Louis usually just shouts at her through her bedroom door, banging until she’ll open up and speak to him.

This is not going to work with Harry, obviously.

Louis finds Harry in the library eating a banana and working on American History. He does not look up when Louis enters the library and he does not look up when Louis sits down right next to him. He does not look up even when Louis taps his bracelet clad wrist.

His expression darkens though, and Louis knows he knows that Louis’ there.

Louis pulls his essay out of his backpack. Across the top, he jots, _will you edit this for me?_ and then slides it on top of Harry’s worksheet.

That has Harry looking at him, at least, even if he’s glaring. He shoves the essay back at Louis who in turn shoves it back him.

Harry glances at the essay then, and sets it aside. He takes a large- _suggestively large-_ bite out of his banana and returns to studying his History notes.

Louis grabs his essay back and writes, _I wrote this for you, please look at it_.

It’s not totally true. Louis’d written it mostly for himself, but Harry’s _important_ to him and he wants Harry to know just how important he is, how much he’s helped Louis. Louis thinks the essay will show him that much, at least.

With a sigh, Harry begins to read the essay. Or at least Louis thinks Harry’s reading it. He doesn’t make any corrections, even the really obvious ones that Louis’d seen before handing it over, but he’s looking at it and his eyes are traveling, slowly and methodically down the page.

Louis wants him to like it.

He’s wearing a small uncertain smile when he finishes and his eyes are a bit shiny when he looks back up at Louis. “Is it true?”

Louis nods, “Yeah. I dropped the papers off this morning, with my name on them, so.”

Harry shakes his head and bites the side of his finger. It’s quiet between them for a moment. Then, words slow and heavy, Harry clarifies, “No, the part where you said you wanted to be able to date and stuff, and not wait till college.”

Louis nods and steps on Harry’s foot, gently.

Harry folds his hands in his lap and looks at them as he says, “Then why did you stop talking to me? Why did you ignore me all weekend?”

Louis doesn’t answer. He’s not sure how to say everything he needs to say- about how he’d been scared, about how he was still scared, about how thinking things through and writing things out had helped him see what he needed to do and who he wanted to become.

Harry lets out a harsh breath and meets Louis’ gaze. “You can’t not answer that. I thought things were going _so_ well. I thought you liked _me_.” He punctuates the statement by moving a hand over to rest high on Louis’ thigh and squeezing.

Louis shakes his head. “They were and I do.”

“Yeah?” Harry scoots his hands up higher so that the back of his hand is resting against Louis’ crotch. It’s nice, distracting, and Louis’ tempted to lose himself in it. Instead, Louis takes Harry’s hand in his.

With an irritated huff, Harry pulls it free from Louis’ grip. “I don’t get what you want from me, Louis. You’re so confusing.”

Harry begins to pack up his things. It’s wrong, so wrong because he’s read Louis’ essay, he’s even _come on_ to Louis, and they still haven’t made up yet. And now Harry’s _leaving_.

On the back of his essay, in big bold letters Louis writes, _Harry Styles, will you go out with me?_

By the time he finishes, Harry is heading for the door of the library. Louis folds the essay into the shape of a paper airplane and tosses it at the back of Harry’s head. It hits him and Louis smiles. Looking back at Louis, stonefaced, Harry picks up the paper and tucks it in his bag.

Louis is late to his next class because he takes his time struggling through editing the grammar of his essay by himself, all the while trying to fight off thoughts of Harry and what he’ll do when he gets Louis’ note.

~

At the end of the day, Louis finds the draft of his essay tucked into the windshield wiper of his minivan. Louis picks it up and flips it over. Underneath his question Harry has written in pink highlighter, _YES!!_ _☺_

He texts Harry a kissy face and Harry texts back a monkey eating a banana.

Louis smiles as he buckles himself into the car, he smiles as he picks up Lottie and Fizzy from school and then drops them off at the dance studio, and he smiles as he puts together an afternoon snack of graham crackers and frosting for himself and the twins. His essay is finished and pretty good and Harry Styles is his boyfriend.

So that’s cool.

He’s not really thinking too much about the club or about signing Zayn up without asking him first. He can deal with that later, after he’s done being happy.

Once Daisy and Phoebe are settled in with Tangled, Louis decides to treat himself to a little porn before he does his homework. He chooses one with lots of blowjobs because he’s more than a little certain that’s where he and Harry are headed next. And he wants to be prepared.

So that maybe he can last a little bit to really enjoy it.

The one guy is sliding the other’s pants down his tattooed hips to reveal a massive, pink, leaking cock and it’s got Louis hot enough to begin unzipping his own jeans when someone knocks at his door. The person gives just a quick rap before opening it and stepping inside. Louis fusses to close the window, but he’s not quick enough.

“That’s- wow.”

Louis pulls his earbuds out and whirls around. Harry is standing next to Louis’ bed with his leather lyrics notebook in hand.

“Oh my god,” Louis says. Harry looks distracted by whatever’s happening on Louis’ computer screen and Louis tries to move so that his shoulders block it.

Harry sits on the edge of Louis’ mattress. “I texted but you didn’t answer. I figured you’d probably be home, though, so I asked my mom to drop me off on the way to the grocery store.”

Louis nods, though he’s having difficulty making out Harry’s words, and wills his dick to calm to the fuck down.

“I told her about us,” Harry continues, twirling the bracelets on his wrist.

Louis nods, again, because that’s probably good. At least she’ll see now that his intentions with Harry are partly honorable. Only partly though because when a tinny moan rings through his headphones, he’s suddenly thinking (and not for the first time) about blowing Harry right here on his bed, right now before dinner.  

Harry squints at the screen over Louis’ shoulder and moves closer. Louis presses down on his erection because it’s demanding practically all his attention _._

“I really don’t think that’s the best way to do it,” Harry says, eyes fixed on the screen.

Louis turns to look at the men. The one man his rubbing the other’s cock all over his face. They both seem pretty into and Louis thinks Harry is wrong.

“Looks good to me,” Louis chokes out as Harry settles into his lap with a frown. He wiggles his ass around a lot for someone just trying to get comfortable, though Louis can admit that his steel  hard  cock might be contributing to Harry’s discomfort.

With an air of someone who _knows_ what he’s talking about, Harry informs Louis, “It’s better if you suck on it and use your hands, like on the balls.”

Louis rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder and they both watch as the guy on screen does just that. “They were getting there, Harry. Be patient.”

Harry moans and Louis glances down to see that he’s stroking his cock through the fabric of his khakis. With each rub, Harry’s hips rock a little creating friction against Louis’ own erection.

Louis takes a deep breath. “How do you know, anyway? You haven’t been getting lots of blowjobs have you? I thought we were boyfriends!” Louis means it playfully, he _does_ , but he’s getting pretty worked up and so the words come out heavy and dark.

Harry chuckles and squirms just so. “ _As of this afternoon_ we’re boyfriends…”

Louis noses Harry’s hair out of the way and sucks down on Harry’s neck, eliciting a little squeal. When he lets up, Louis asks, “So you’ve got lots of experience? I thought your mom didn’t even let you watch porn.”

Harry rubs his hands along the sides of Louis’ hips. “Cosmo.”

Louis has no idea what Harry’s talking about so he busies himself kissing Harry’s neck and licking into his ear. “Ungh. Taylor gives me all her old copies of Cosmo. _Fuck._ There’s lots of, ummmm,  blowjob tips. I know _so maaaaaany,_ fuck,ways to ‘please your man.’ _Louis_.”

By the time Harry’s finished explaining, Louis’ made a whole line of lovely pinkening bruises to decorate his collar bone.  Against Harry’s cheek, he murmurs, “You’ve got lots of knowledge, okay, but that does not mean you’re any good at it. You might be terrible in practice.”

Harry turns so that they’re kissing. Harry’s hungry for it, his mouth and hands running a bit wild on Louis. He breaks the kiss and looks back to the screen where the actors have moved from blow jobs to ass stuff.  Louis clears his throat and Harry says, “I can show you what I know. And you can tell me whether you like it.”

Louis closes his eyes and nods into Harry’s shoulder.

A door slams downstairs and they both jump a little. Louis’ mom is home. He doesn’t _think_ she’ll come upstairs, but she might.

Harry hops off Louis, grabs him by the forearms, and pulls. “Up. On the bed.”

Louis resists and opens his legs. If his mom were to peek in, she’d see less if they stay where they are at Louis’ computer than she would if they relocate to the bed. “How about right here.”

Harry shrugs and drops to his knees. With a little sigh, he rubs his hands up and down Louis thighs, nosing at the outline of Louis’ dick. It’s wonderful, the feel of his hot breath and the press of his skin, but it’s not nearly enough.

“I thought you were a fan of getting right to it, Harold. What did you say about ‘sucking’?” Harry looks up at Louis through his lashes and then mouths him wetly through his jeans. Louis’ head rolls back and his eyes close. That’s not what he meant but it’s _fantastic._

Louis can already tell that blowjobs are going to be everything that they’re made out to be, maybe even better.

“Hey,” Harry says, catching Louis’ attention. “Can I?” His fingers are starting to undo Louis’ buttons. But he’s going very slowly and Louis knows he could stop this, if he wanted to. But he cannot fathom even a sliver of reason why he’d want to.

Batting Harry’s hand away, Louis tells him, “Yes, oh my god, yes.” He makes quick work of the button and zipper and tugs the jeans down his hips and over his thighs so that they puddle around his ankles.

Harry watches closely, a hand pressing down on his own erection which Louis can see tenting his khakis. When Harry licks his lips and leans forward, Louis almost loses it. His dick twitches and a wet drop of precome pulses out the top.

Harry laps it up with a wicked grin and Louis realizes that he will probably _swallow_. He reaches out to run a hand through Harry’s hair, tangling his fingers in the wild mess of curls.

Lips against Louis’ dick, Harry asks, “What do you want?”

Without waiting for an answer, he begins to lick Louis all over, mapping every curve and crevice of Louis’ dick. Each stroke of his tongue sends a little shivery tingle through Louis’ whole body.

He pulls off, smiling. “Or maybe you prefer?”

He works his lips over Louis’ dick, swallowing him down and down and down, until Louis’ hitting the back of his throat. Louis watches disbelieving as Harry winces and then relaxes to take him even deeper.

It’s the best feeling he’s ever experienced. The very, _very_ best. And he says, “Yeah, Harry, like this.” It comes out pitchy, but Louis can’t be fucked to care.

As Harry reaches up to massage his balls, Louis thinks he can see him smiling around his dick. The idiot _likes_ this, likes making Louis wild. Louis can give him _wild._ He digs his fingers into Harry’s scalp. He tries  to be gentle and not to shove Harry forward or choke him, but he needs Harry to know what he’s doing to him.

Harry’s eyes are watering, but he’s not backing off and it feels _so damn good_. Louis lets his hips rock just a little bit and the movement makes Harry whine. The noise vibrates all around Louis and suddenly he’s very, very close to coming.

He tightens his fists in Harry’s hair and says, “Oh my god, you should…”

At Louis’ words, Harry whines again, his throat constricting just tight enough to have Louis shooting off. Harry backs off slightly but keeps sucking until Louis has let out his very last drop of come.  

When he sits back to smile, glassy eyed, up at Louis, he looks as wrecked as Louis feels. His mouth is swollen pink and his hair is a knotted mess.

As Louis watches he closes his eyes and sticks a hand into his pants. He’s breathing heavily and biting his lips. He looks very, very close.

“Wait.” Louis reaches out and wraps a hand around his wrist. “Let me do you.”

Harry eyes flick open. “You want to?” His voice is rough and barely there. It sounds painful, like he’s got a terrible cold.

Louis nods. He trips on his jeans as he lowers himself to the ground, but Harry’s too busy pulling off his own pants and stumbling up into the chair to notice.

Harry’s dick is _huge_. It’s bigger than Louis’ for sure and, alright, he’s a little jealous, but he’s more, like, thrilled that his boyfriend could probably make it as a porn star. He’s so fucking lucky.

Remembering Harry’s words from earlier, he wraps one hand around Harry’s cock to guide it into his mouth and brings his other up to play with his sack. The smoothness of it surprises him as does the muskiness. It tastes just like it smells, salty and bitter, but somehow also _good_.

Harry squirms in the seat. His eyes are focused intently on Louis and his hands are wrapped tightly around the chair’s arms.  

Louis sucks and Harry moans. “Louis, come on.”

Louis isn’t sure what Harry’s asking for, but he thinks he might want, like, more. So Louis tries to copy what Harry had done, pulling him in deeper and deeper. He doesn’t get far, though, before he’s choking.

He pulls off and coughs out, “How did you do that?”

Harry’s hips stutter and his dick knocks against Louis’ cheek. “Practice. Like with a dildo.”

“You have a dildo? Do you like….?” Louis’ suddenly picturing Harry lying out in his own bed shoving something phallic and flesh-colored up his own ass.

Harry closes his eyes, reaches forward to stroke himself, and grates out, “Please, Louis, can you keep…?”

Louis nods and pulls himself out his fantasy and back into the current moment in which he’s actually sucking _a dick_ , Harry’s huge-ass dick to be precise.

It doesn’t take long before Harry’s coming, too, and Louis _has_ to swallow –he’s not going to be outdone, but he’s not sure he likes it. He does like how it makes Harry writhe around in his seat, keening and whining.

That definitely makes the slightly sour taste worth it.

He looks up at Harry and Harry blinks back down at him.

“Thank you,” Harry says. His voice is still a rough whisper, but his tone is polite and weirdly formal. Louis doesn’t like it so he pinches the bare skin of his thigh, pulling at the hair to make sure it hurts, just a tad.

Harry laughs and grabs Louis’ wrist. “Blowjobs are definitely less messy than handjobs,” Harry observes.

Louis agrees, “More practical, and about two hundred percent hotter.  I think we should probably do them more often.”

Harry nods and then leans over for a quick kiss. Then he stands and wriggles back into his pants. Louis follows suit, not sure what’s going to happen next.

They’re boyfriends and they just had sex and now it would feel weird to just, like, go back to playing video games.

“So,” Harry says. He’s sitting on Louis’ bed and holding his journal. “I thought you might like to hear the song I wrote for you. But I don’t think, like,” he coughs. “My voice is probably too messed up after that.”

Louis sits beside him and kisses his cheek. “You could try?”

Harry smiles and nods, “Okay, but don’t, like, judge me on this performance. I can do it better.”

Louis nods and flips open Harry’s book. Harry helps him find the right page and then begins to hum what is probably the happiest tune that Louis’ ever heard. It matches Louis’ mood perfectly.

~

Louis peers into the choir room. Zayn and Niall are laughing at something Liam’s doing with a music stand, while Perrie and Cara help Ms. T and Mr. Grimshaw set up a snack table. A few girls Louis doesn’t recognize hover in the corner and Louis’s pretty sure they’re Harry’s friends.

It’s a good showing for their first official GSA meeting, except that Harry’s nowhere in sight.

Mr. Grimshaw sees Louis and gestures him over. “Where’s Harry?”

Louis bites back a ‘fuck off’ and shrugs. He has no _idea_ where Harry is. “He texted to meet him here.”

Mr. Grimshaw shakes his head. “Well, he’s not here, Tomlinson. I thought he’d might’ve been with you in a closet somewhere.”

Calling on his newly developed self-control, Louis does not lash out. “I’ll find him.”

And he does, not five minutes later, sitting at their usual library table with his head buried in his arms. Louis sits down beside him and taps his shoulder.

Harry lifts his head, but not all the way. He looks awful, pale and unhappy. “Hey, sorry,” he says.

“Come on, everyone is waiting for us.” Louis tugs his arm, but it doesn’t budge.

“We don’t have an agenda.” Harry chews his lip. “How can we run the meeting without an agenda?”

Louis sighs and takes Harry’s hands in his own. “It’s going to go fine with or without an agenda.”

Harry closes his eyes and then blinks them open, meeting Louis’ gaze full on. “It’s so important to me.”

Louis nods. “I know, me too.” He leans forward and taps his nose against Harry’s. He wants to press their lips together instead, but he’s not sure he’s ready for _that_ much PDA. Not that anyone’s around to see.

Harry’s smiling when Louis pulls back.

Louis tugs on Harry’s rainbow bracelet. “Ready to go?”

He shakes his head, still smiling and more relaxed now. “Actually, I have a present for you. I was going to give it to you after the meeting, but I want you to have it now.”

Harry pulls free from Louis’ grip and digs in his backpack. After a moment, he comes up with a bracelet, hemp with rainbow beads. It’s not the same as the one he’s wearing, but, like, it _matches_.

He takes Louis’ arm and raises an eyebrow. Louis nods and Harry carefully ties the bracelet around his wrist.

“Alright, let’s get going; people are wai-“

Louis looks from the bracelet to Harry and thinks, _fuck it_ \- the GSA can wait a few minutes longer- and cuts Harry off with a kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr: [juliusschmidt](http://juliusschmidt.tubmlr.com). :)


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